


The Diary of Dracule Mihawk

by elenniel



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-05-18 03:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 43,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14844455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenniel/pseuds/elenniel
Summary: Perona discovers that Mihawk keeps a diary, and this inadvertently leads to a discovery about Zoro.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of a plot bunny that appeared in my head after hearing the official OP translator on the One Piece Podcast suggest that Zoro's and Luffy's hilariously basic autographs for Barto ("Sword" and "Me") might be an indicator of their literacy levels. XD

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #951** :

_Came back to the castle today and was looking forward to some peace and quiet after that fiasco at Marineford. Peace and quiet didn’t happen. Found that idiot Roronoa having a shouting match on the grand staircase with some girl with pink hair._

_I do not understand._

… … …

Perona was bored. There wasn’t much to do in this dreary place. Not that she minded the “dreary” part much… But “dreary” was not at all amusing when she had no minions to entertain her. Roronoa Zoro and Dracule Mihawk were, sadly, not minion material. They weren’t cute enough. Moreover, Roronoa Zoro had the irritating tendency to snap back, thus obliging her to unleash hollows on him half the time. While it was quite satisfying to see him fall to his knees and declare his secret desire to turn into a ball of moss, it could get pretty exhausting for her. As for Mihawk… He had the irritating tendency to be impervious to her hollows unless truly caught unawares.

She – or rather her astral form – floated through the hallways, looking for something to do. Mihawk had gone off somewhere in the morning after barking orders at Zoro, instructing him to practice something or other. Zoro was somewhere outside following instructions, no doubt.

Why Kuma decided to strand her with two men whose only preoccupations in life were swords and alcohol she did not know. Maybe he’d thought it would be amusing to kill her through boredom.

She floated her way into the dining/living/all-purpose room. She didn’t know what to call it, although usually she just went with “dining room.” It was a large room with a long table and several high-backed chairs, and they had their meals there. At the far end of the room were three armchairs, an old rug, and a tall bookcase that stretched from floor to ceiling.

 _Guess I’ll read something_.

There was a ladder attached to the bookcase, but who needs ladders when one can fly? A little kick pushed her right up to the top shelf and she looked at the books there. Nothing of interest there. She descended to the next shelf, and the one after that… All boring. Mihawk apparently read nothing but books on swords and fighting and battles. No, not quite. There were a few books on history, two books on wine appreciation, and one called _The History of Hats_.

Perona rolled her eyes at the books on wine, and stared in disbelief at the book about hats.

Weird though it seemed that Mihawk had a book about hats, it was at least more interesting than all the rest.

She reached out for _The History of Hats_ but stopped, remembering that while she could hold the book in her astral form, she couldn’t bring the book back with her through the walls and such because she couldn’t imbue it with any ghostly properties.

Feeling annoyed by the limitations of her powers, she returned to her body and then trudged all the way back to the dining room on foot to retrieve the book.

As she pulled the book off the shelf, she accidentally dislodged several other books and they all tumbled down to the floor. Perona threw up her hands in exasperation and climbed down the ladder. Now she’d have to pick up the books and return them to the shelf. Half a moment later though, she remembered that she wouldn’t need to pass through walls and so her astral projection ability would come in handy. She felt better then.

So she settled down in the most comfortable armchair and then popped out of her body. Floating up to the shelf was ever so much easier than climbing up that ladder. She put a few books back in place and went to pick up the remaining ones on the floor.

One book caught her eye. It had a plain black cover and, unlike the other books, had no title on the front or on the spine. She looked at it curiously and opened it. 

> _#910_
> 
> _Ran into_ Akagami _last week. He’s as ebullient as always. Sometimes he’s almost too cheery for me. But the man has good taste in wine and_ sake _. We drank an excessive amount that day._ _He started telling me stories about some woman in East Blue. I couldn’t care less, but I stayed for the drink._

Perona blinked. Was this…?

> _#911_
> 
> _I need to restock my wine cellar._

A gleam of pure delight came into her eyes. _The History of Hats_ could wait. The diary of Dracule Mihawk was far better.

… … …

Zoro had a sneaking suspicion that Mihawk was making him do pointless “exercises” just because he could. But as he couldn’t read the master swordsman very well, he did them anyway. For all he knew, there was method to Mihawk’s madness. Still, trying to balance pebbles from the river in stacks of five or more was inherently infuriating. The pebbles were all worn smooth and would keep falling down unless they were flat enough in shape. His best effort was three stones high. After that he decided to reward himself with some beer.

It took him a full twenty minutes to find the kitchen and help himself to the desired beverage.

After that, it took him another ten minutes to find the dining room. Just as he reached it, he heard an angry-sounding exclamation.

_What on earth…?_

He opened the door and stopped short, seeing two Peronas – one “asleep” in an armchair, and the other seated on the floor by the bookcase. It took him a couple of seconds to remember that she could project a ghost version of herself. The Perona on the floor (which he presumed was the projection) was clutching a book and looking murderous.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

She jumped. “You!”

“Me? What the hell did I do to you?”

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?”

Perona blinked twice. Then she gave him an exasperated look. “I wasn’t saying that _you_ are the problem (though you certainly are a problem in a sense). I was – oh never mind. _Look_.”

In a flash, she’d zipped over to him and Zoro found himself face to face with the book she held.

“ _Look at this._ ” Perona pointed at some lines scribbled on one of the pages.

“Dumbass!” snapped Zoro, shoving the book away. “I can’t see anything when it’s about an inch from my face!”

She moved backwards, still holding the book out towards him, and jabbed a finger at the page. “Just look at this! This is Mihawk’s diary.”

Zoro’s gaze followed the direction of her finger. He stared at the writing.

… … …

After a few minutes, Perona felt her anger at Mihawk dissipate a little, as confusion came in. Why was Zoro taking so long to read a few lines? Mihawk’s handwriting wasn’t illegible.

“Well?” she said at last.

“So what?”

“‘So what?’” echoed Perona. “Don’t you see what he says about you – and about _me_?!”

Zoro shrugged and uncorked the bottle in his hand. “Who cares? You probably deserved whatever he said about you anyway.”

Perona gasped indignantly. She objected vehemently to his second statement but the apathy in “Who cares?” puzzled her. She looked at the page again. Had she misread it?

>   _#959_
> 
> _I’m beginning to think I should kick both of them out of here. Roronoa is boorish and sometimes behaves so cantankerously that I wonder if it’s really worth my time to even try to train him. He has potential… Somewhere. It’s a matter of whether he can get it out of wherever it’s buried in his moldy depths._
> 
> _As for the girl…_ Such _a grating voice. Well, I suppose when she’s not being whiny she doesn’t sound that awful. But she does behave like a spoilt brat sometimes. She keeps demanding that I hire servants. Really. Such entitlement. Her saving grace is that she can cook a half-decent meal._

Grating voice. Whiny. Spoilt brat. Entitlement. Perona could almost feel steam coming out of her ears. She gripped the book and fought the urge to rip it into pieces. If she did that, Mihawk would know she’d read his diary and he might really kick her out then.

But she didn’t understand why Zoro had hardly reacted to the passage in the diary. Roronoa Zoro had shown that he could be touchy if insulted in specific ways. And even if he somehow hadn’t felt offended by what Mihawk had written, he would surely have taken the chance to agree with Mihawk on her voice and behaviour. The complete apathy was odd.

He had made his way to an empty chair and was in the process of chugging down beer. She went up to him and said, “You don’t care that he thinks you’re rude and a grouch?”

“What?”

She read a line from the diary: “‘Roronoa is boorish and sometimes behaves so cantankerously that I wonder if it’s really worth my time to even try to train him.’”

“ _What_?!”

“You were staring at the passage here long enough! Didn’t you read that part?! It is literally the second line.”

Zoro opened his mouth… and then clamped it shut again. He certainly looked irked now.

But why, Perona wondered, hadn’t he reacted earlier? It had taken him longer than normal to read a handful of lines. He couldn’t have missed it. Or could he…?

A thought struck her then. She cast an inquiring look at him.

“Hey.”

“What?” he said.

“You _can_ read, can’t you?”

An indecipherable expression came over his face – it seemed a mixture of annoyance, indignation, embarrassment and confusion.

“I mean,” continued Perona, “you seemed to be able to read the newspaper articles about the Marineford stuff, and also that one about your captain ringing the bell a bunch of times. But…” She looked at the diary and then back at him. “Could it be that you can’t read kanji?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #952** :

_It’s been two days. The girl with pink hair can summon ghosts, apparently. Devil Fruit. And it seems I have Kuma to thank for her presence and his on my island. I may be getting rid of Roronoa, at least. He insisted on wanting to leave yesterday so I gave him a boat and then he got caught up with the humandrills. I told him to return to the castle but he persisted so I got myself a bottle of wine and am watching him from the window. This is amusing._

… … …

Zoro wished he’d never laid eyes on Perona. Or that Perona had never laid eyes on Mihawk’s diary. Or that she hadn’t been perceptive enough to guess the truth. Or that the stupid diary never existed in the first place. Why was _Mihawk_ , of all people, keeping a diary?!

That Perona had been slipping in snide remarks here and there ever since she’d realised that he couldn’t read kanji. It was absolutely aggravating. He had never wanted to stab a girl more in his life.

So he couldn’t read much kanji. Big deal! He could read the alphabet and that was good enough. Wanted posters and other important news were usually printed in the alphabet, not in kanji.

He slashed at a tree with such force that he cut it right in half.

“I’d rather you refrained from expressing yourself by cutting up a perfectly good tree.”

He looked round and saw Mihawk walking out of the woods.

“If you keep that up, you’re going to denude the land here. As I happen to like having a thick forest to deter intruders, I insist that you cease this pointless destruction. Please find yourself some other emotional outlet.” With that, Mihawk continued on towards the castle.

Zoro gritted his teeth and waited until Mihawk was out of sight before stabbing the fallen tree trunk several times with his sword to relieve himself of a little bit more frustration.

… … …

Perona had to keep herself from yelling at Mihawk when she saw him come through the front door. She crouched behind a pillar and contented herself with glaring at him from her hidden position.

_Mustn’t let him know I read his diary. Mustn’t react. Must carry on as usual. Mustn’t throw negative hollows at him for no apparent reason. No hollows. No shouting. Self-control. Self-control._

Mihawk didn’t seem to need to see her to know she was there, though. Heading towards his own quarters, he said, “Better make a good dinner, Ghost Girl. Roronoa is in a truly bad mood today.”

With an indignant scowl, she emerged from behind the pillar. “Excuse me! I am not your servant! And so what if that idiot is in a bad mood? He’s cranky half the time!”

“If you don’t cook,” said Mihawk, “you know that he will. And that means nothing but tinned beans for dinner since there’s nothing else that’s easy to prepare. I don’t care about eating tinned beans again, but I think _you_ do.”

The door clicked shut.

Several hollows appeared and looked inquiringly at their mistress. But Perona merely curled her fingers, wishing that she could get her hands on Mihawk’s neck.

She really didn’t want to eat tinned beans again.

Before Mihawk turned up after Marineford, she – and later also Roronoa Zoro – was completely stranded on the island and had had no choice but to eat whatever food was available in the castle. That had turned out to be some bread, some vegetables and chunks of meat, and lots of tinned food. Tinned fish, tinned soup, tinned beans, tinned curry... Stuff like bread and vegetables and meat she had eaten up long before Zoro crash landed in the forest. They wouldn’t have kept long anyway. So after that she had had to eat all the tinned food, most of which was tinned beans. By the time Mihawk arrived, she was very, very sick of the beans, and although she had been alarmed to discover that the place belonged to a _Shichibukai_ , she had also been extremely glad to see that he’d come with fresh supplies of food.

So Perona gave a deep sigh and stalked off in the direction of the kitchen. Her hollows trailed after her.

… … …

Mihawk had been getting used to having less-than-enjoyable mealtimes with his two “guests” – the ghost girl was usually whiny and Roronoa was usually grumpy. Both were much more bearable when they were in good moods, but rarely were they both in a good mood at the same time. When one was, it often felt as though the good mood of that one made the other more sour.

This dinner was one of those instances. Roronoa’s mood hadn’t improved from earlier in the afternoon when Mihawk had found him slashing at innocent trees in the forest. The ghost girl, however… He tried to put his finger on it. Something about her attitude was aggravating Roronoa Zoro more than usual.

“I borrowed another one of your books,” she said to Mihawk.

“Oh?”

“ _The Ghouls of the Grand Line_. It’s interesting.”

Of course she’d find a book on ghosts interesting.

“I don’t recall that I had such a book,” said Mihawk, pushing his empty plate aside.

Perona shrugged. “Maybe it belonged to the previous owners of this place. It was on the top shelf.” She gestured towards the bookcase.

Mihawk said nothing. He refilled his wine glass.

She prattled on for a while, talking about the stories she’d read in the book and asking him if he’d encountered any of the ghosts of the Shikkearu kingdom that were listed in it. His answer was always no. If such ghosts did exist, they’d probably fled in terror when he’d decided to make the castle his home. Shanks had once told him that he exuded a spectacularly chilling aura.

“It’s rare to find books like that written in kanji,” she remarked finally.

Across the table, Zoro stabbed at a piece of chicken on his plate with more vehemence than was necessary. Mihawk noted the reaction.

“What do you think of this dual-writing system we practice?” continued Perona. “It’s rather interesting, isn’t it? We have the one standard alphabet we use for general communications and then there’s the kanji system that we use for other things.”

Mihawk’s eyebrows lifted several millimetres. That was a rather odd topic of conversation, even for Ghost Girl. “I’ve never thought about it,” he said. “Doubtless, whoever came up with it at the beginning thought it was a good idea.”

“Hmm.” Perona nibbled at her helping of the chicken. “Do you think there are people who can’t read the alphabet? Or kanji?”

“It is quite likely.”

“I wonder what it’s like to not be able to read half the things you see.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Me neither. I just wondered. It must be so sad.”

“Or perhaps they do not feel anything because it is unnecessary for their life.”

“True,” she said, looking thoughtful. “But I would feel sorry for such people all the same. Wouldn’t it be a bit like not being able to do math–”

A loud clatter interrupted her. Zoro, apparently finished with his food, had thrown his knife and fork down on his plate. He stalked out of the room.

Several seconds of silence passed. Perona seemed a bit startled and Mihawk realised that the sensation he hadn’t been able to name earlier was that of self-satisfied superiority. That was what had been annoying Zoro – her smug behaviour. But interestingly, after he’d left, Perona now suddenly seemed to sink into awkward speechlessness. The superiority seemed to seep out of her even as Mihawk watched. He let several moments pass before he spoke again.

“Even pirates,” he said, “have to learn the value of allies.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “What?”

“Roronoa is of the type that can be remarkably loyal when he chooses to be. He may not be congenial, but–”

“I should make him an _ally_?” The sneer evident in her voice was remarkable.

“Would you prefer ‘friend?’”

Sputtering sounds issued from Perona. “Us – _friends_? You’ve got to be joking.”

“Use whatever word you please, Ghost Girl. But I didn’t survive in this world and rise to my rank by making myself hateful and annoying to people who could be useful to me.”

Mihawk reached for more wine. “Gekko Moriah’s crew is as good as gone now. For all I know, Moriah himself is as good as gone. You and Roronoa are both stuck here for the foreseeable future – unless you intend to make your own way in the world (in which case I will lend you a boat with pleasure). In the meantime, it would do you no harm to _not_ antagonise Roronoa. I am not certain what passed between you two, but clearly you are holding something over him, and he resents it. Being smug does neither of you any good. Whatever it is, you could do with a little more kindness.”

Perona looked sullenly at her plate. She finished her dinner in silence.

When she’d gone, Mihawk rose from his chair and went to the bookcase. He looked for and found his diary, took a pen from another shelf and wrote his 964th entry:

> _Well, something must’ve happened while I was away. I wonder._


	3. Chapter 3

Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #954:

_I suppose it is a good thing that Kuma sent the girl here as well as Roronoa. She’s proving useful. At least I don’t have to be the one treating Roronoa’s injuries. He had plenty of them after dealing with the humandrills. The silly fool._

… … …

Zoro limped back into the castle with his teacher’s arm supporting him.

“You need to learn more caution, Roronoa,” was what Mihawk had said after he’d been on the receiving end of Mihawk’s blade. “You wouldn’t have gotten cut if you’d paid a little more attention to what I was doing instead of trying to predict what I might do.”

Cut? Mihawk called that a ‘ _cut_ ’? The bleeding gash just below his right knee and the matching one on his left were hardly “cuts.” Zoro had a dreadful suspicion that at least one of them was more than skin-deep. His legs were hurting enough for him to wonder if Mihawk’s double slashes had reached muscle or tendon or something, and was grimly surprised that his legs were still attached to the rest of him. Walking was definitely a problem right now.

He regarded the staircase leading up to the dining hall with some dread. Fortunately, his bedroom was located on the same floor as the dining hall. That would reduce the walking distance.

“Ghost Girl!” called Mihawk.

_No!_

The last person from whom Zoro wanted help at that point was Perona. Since the diary incident, he’d tolerated her presence at mealtimes but hadn’t spoken to her in days. He hated feeling ridiculous and he hated that she knew something that made him look ridiculous.

“What?” came the surly response from above.  

Her astral form was floating in the air, arms folded and a resigned look on her face.

“Get down here,” said Mihawk, hauling Zoro up each stair with an odd mixture of care and carelessness. “You need to treat his wounds.”

Zoro saw the twitch of her mouth that suggested one of her usual “why do _I_ have to do that?” retorts was forthcoming. But she said nothing of the sort.

“Fine,” she said. The ghostly figure glided up through the ceiling while the two men made slow progress to Zoro’s room.

Perona came in just as Mihawk let him drop onto a chair. She was holding an old box that now served as a first aid kit, as well as a basin of water and a couple of towels.

Mihawk nodded towards Perona, and told Zoro that he was _not_ to do any physical training for the next three days _at least_. At Zoro’s beginning to object, he held up a hand for silence. “There is no point in exacerbating injuries, Roronoa. Your captain has given you two years. A few days of recuperation will not affect anything. But if you insist on pushing yourself when you are not yet healed, all that will get you is a weakened frame.”

Perona had sat herself down on the floor and was now regarding Zoro’s bloody legs with a frown. Zoro was not sure he liked what that frown suggested.

“I did not get where I am by neglecting my injuries, Roronoa, which is something you seem to do frequently. I understand that your ship’s doctor was quite a marvel, but even he cannot perfectly mend injuries that are aggravated again and again. This” – Mihawk gestured at the gashes on Zoro’s legs – “will not, I think, be the worst injuries you will suffer in training with me. So you had better rest. And let her do what she can for you, though she is no doctor.”  

“I’ll have you know that Doctor Hogback taught me a lot!” Perona glared at Mihawk. She took out a bottle of medicine that Zoro presumed was antiseptic of some sort, and fished around in the box for some other things.

“Then I trust you will apply his teachings,” said Mihawk as he swept out of the room.

Zoro couldn’t help a tiny flinch as she cleaned up his wounds. He gritted his teeth. He’d been through worse. These injuries weren’t life-threatening, at least.

“I think these need stitches.”

Those were the first words she’d addressed to him in days. It felt a little odd. Then her words sank in.

“What?” he yelled. “No way am I letting _you_ touch me with anything even resembling a needle!”

And those were the first words he’d addressed to her in days.

… … …

In the dining hall, Mihawk heard Zoro yelling and Perona shouting back. He shrugged to no one in particular, leaned back in his chair and took a nap. Later, his diary entry read:

> #965
> 
> _They’re at it again. These children. Sometimes I wonder if they secretly_ enjoy _fighting with each other. It is entirely possible. They’re both such exaggerated personalities they could be comic book characters and it would be just like comic book characters to secretly enjoy the quarrels._

… … …

Perona looked at her handiwork. “Not bad, even if I do say so myself.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“This is only the second time I’ve ever stitched anyone up on my own. I think I’m allowed to have a little pride in my work.”

Zoro looked murderous – or as murderous as a person with injured legs lying prone on a bed could look. “Only the _second_ time?! And you – you dared… You could’ve made it worse! It hurt like hell too!”

“Please!” said Perona with a roll of her eyes. “Didn’t you heal just fine after Kuma sent you here? Need I remind you that _I_ treated all your wounds then?”

“All you did was slap on some medicine and bandage me up! And for all that you learnt from that crazy doctor, your bandaging skills could use some work.” He eyed the clumsy bandages.

“Well, _excuse me_ for not being a perfect nurse!” she snapped. “Can’t you even say ‘thank you’?”

She stomped out of his room, intending to return to her own. Irritation rose and bubbled over. He was just _so_ ungrateful!

_But then_ , said a little ghost in her head, _he’s injured and he’s probably upset that he has to put his training on hold for a few days_. _And also… you know. There is that. Remember what happened last week with the diary?_

Her steps slowed halfway up the stairs until she came to a stop. Truth be told, when Zoro had stormed out of the dining hall that evening, a sudden sense of guilt had descended upon her. Some part of her knew she was being mean, and Mihawk’s remarks about allies and kindness just made her feel worse because he’d put it into words.

Her head dropped and then came up in a silent scream. Having a conscience was no fun.

Perona returned to Zoro’s room with a tray containing sandwiches, a cup and a pitcher of hot water. He was clearly surprised to see that she’d come back.

“Here.” She set the tray down on the table beside the bed. Then she noticed that he was now sitting up in bed. Her brows knit together. “Did you force yourself to this sitting position? You probably put extra strain on yourself. You should’ve just told me you wanted to sit up.”

“I can sit up just fine,” he grumbled. “I don’t need your help.”

“Sure you don’t.” Perona poured out some of the water into the cup.

“I _don’t_ need your help.”

“Whatever you say.” With that, she set the cup down on the table – a little too heavily, because some of the water splashed out – and left him to his own devices.

… … …

Several days into his enforced bed rest (and Mihawk had enforced it indeed by coming into the room in the morning and checking on him and delivering a few stern words of warning), Zoro found he had to eat his words.

His upper body strength was sufficient for him to manage to sit up on his own and move around the bed, but walking was another matter. He could walk unassisted if he had to, but it was painful and extremely slow going. The injuries had been a little too close to his knees for it to not hurt. Mihawk clearly knew this, and had either given Perona instructions accordingly, or she herself had guessed as much.

In spite of his rejection of her help on that first afternoon, she still returned periodically for various reasons. She brought him meals, tended his wounds, and (to his embarrassment) even helped him limp to the bathroom when necessary. Thankfully, her assistance ended at the bathroom door. Tutelage from Hogback or no, Perona was not actually a nurse and Zoro could not have borne it if she had insisted on helping him further than that. She also left one of her ghosts behind in his room most of the day as a sort of watchdog which went running – or flying – to her whenever it thought Zoro might need assistance with anything. He wasn’t sure if he was more irritated by that or more thankful for it.

She only spoke to him when she absolutely had to, but Zoro found that he could not continue to ignore her as he had originally intended. He grudgingly began with a nod of thanks, with the occasional muttered “thank you.” She said very little in return, merely nodding back or saying, “You’re welcome.” She maintained the general silence, however. Zoro was fine with that. Or he was for the first day or two.

He got bored. Terribly bored. He couldn’t train with his swords, and doing things like lifting weights from where he sat wasn’t the most interesting activity in the world. Yes, sleeping was quite a hobby of his, but he couldn’t actually sleep round the clock.

But worse than the boredom was the realisation that he’d become more accustomed to the constant hum of activity on the Thousand Sunny than he’d imagined. Franky and Usopp’s tinkering with their various hobbies always produced a variety of background sounds. And Luffy’s loud and cheery voice, or his rubbery bouncing from one place to another. The occasional rattling of kitchen stuff from Sanji. Chopper, Nami and Robin were the quietest, but there was still the sound of their voices, and of their movements aboard ship. Then there was the sea; it was probably the most constant sound on the Sunny.

Here at this gloomy castle where the world’s greatest swordsman resided, a strange almost-silence reigned.  The silence was due in no small part to the fact that there were only three people in the entire castle – no, on the _island_. Only one of them was naturally inclined to be chatty and that one person was currently not speaking much to him.

Though he wasn’t the conversational sort, he became aware (much to his chagrin) that he missed her chatter. It had made the castle feel a little bit more like the Sunny. With barely five full sentences of conversation a day now, Zoro found the silence was beginning to eat at him. He needed to do something before he went out of his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #961** :

_The books on the shelf look slightly different. The ghost girl or Roronoa must’ve taken a look at the books some time or other. Most likely the girl though. Roronoa doesn’t strike me as the reading type_. _But he did ask me for books today. That was surprising. He must be more bored than I thought._

_It is convenient, however. I doubt he would sit down to read anything useful unless he was driven to it. And Roronoa could certainly benefit from a little more substance in his head – substance that is not steel or_ sake _._

_Note to self: Keep diary elsewhere._

… … …

Perona blinked at the books Mihawk piled into her arms.

“What’s all this for?”                                                                                                

“Roronoa,” said Mihawk, “requested that I provide him with reading material on swordsmanship.”

Her disbelieving gaze moved from the books to Mihawk. “ _He_ asked you for books.”

“Yes.”

She looked at Mihawk.

He stared back.

A lone cricket chirped somewhere outside.

… … …

When Perona dropped the books on the bedside table, it was Zoro’s turn to stare at them in some disbelief.

“Mihawk sent these,” she said. She glanced at the now-empty water jug on the table, picked it up and left Zoro with the books.

He hadn’t expected Mihawk to give him more than one to read. There had to be at least ten books in that stack. He suddenly wished he hadn’t asked Mihawk for something to read.

He picked up the first few books. _The Philosophy of Strategy_. _Fighting Words: The Way of the Blade_. _The Creation and Care of Swords of All Styles_.

Zoro wasn’t sure if he found them more interesting or more repelling. Some of them at least _sounded_ interesting. But they also looked awfully wordy. He liked books to be short, succinct and straightforward.

Then his eyes fell upon the fourth book and a slow dread crept up his spine. He glanced down the stack. Three of the books were obviously written in kanji. That was going to be awkward. Did Mihawk expect him to read everything eventually? Because that wasn’t going to be possible… The only kanji he could recognise on the book covers were “sword” and “swordsman.” He had some awkward explaining to do.

The door clicked open. Zoro hurriedly put two books back on top of the stack and pretended to be absorbed in the table of contents of _The Creation and Care of Swords of All Styles_. Perona returned, having refilled the jug. 

She set the jug down… and didn’t leave. Why didn’t she leave? Perhaps she was going to mock him again. He looked up defiantly.

“What now?” he demanded. 

She was regarding him thoughtfully. Then she tapped a finger on the spine of one of the kanji-titled books in the stack and said, “I can help you with that if you like.”

“Huh?” 

Perona narrowed her eyes, as though suspecting him of faking a reaction. “Do you want me to teach you to read kanji?”

Zoro couldn’t believe his ears. _She_ was offering to teach him how to read? He had definitely not been expecting that. But along with surprise, there was a feeling of… Anger? Embarrassment? Irritation? Irritation. That was it. Somehow, the offer irritated him. He didn’t know how to respond. He sensed he ought to feel grateful, but he was overwhelmingly irritated instead. It was such a ridiculous idea.

“ _You_ – teach _me_? Don’t be stupid!”

Perona looked affronted. “ _Well_. All you needed to say was ‘no, thank you,’” she said, and departed with an angry turn of heel.

He dropped the book and slumped down on the pillows. He knew the tone he had used was uncalled for. But… She’d taken him by surprise! He had never imagined that she would suggest such a thing. Mock him, yes, but offer to help him? Where had that come from??

He half-expected a bunch of her stupid laughing ghosts to descend on him soon, followed by that crippling sense of depression. But none came. That was surprising in itself.

Now that he thought about it, his fears of her continued mockery seemed unfounded. For whatever reason, she’d abruptly ceased to taunt him for his kanji-illiteracy. Had Mihawk found out the root of her mockery somehow and forbidden her from taunting him? But if that was the case, giving him books written in kanji was rather cruel. Zoro gave the books a sidelong look. He didn’t think Mihawk was that sort of person, however harsh his training methods might be.

He picked up the book in his lap and put it back on top of the others. Staring hard at the stack, Zoro considered the question: would it really be so bad to learn to read kanji from Perona?

One part of him said that it really wouldn’t be that bad; it would be useful to learn to read kanji and here was someone offering to teach him. Another part of him scoffed at the idea – he’d gotten along these nineteen years without needing that particular skill, so why bother now?

The question stayed with him until the next day, when he forgot it temporarily after Mihawk declared that he thought Zoro could get up and take short walks around the castle or the grounds for up to half an hour at a time.

Of course, Zoro had to have assistance, and as Mihawk had no inclination to be his pupil’s walking cane or babysitter, it fell to Perona to accompany Zoro on his walks. Even though that was not ideal (and brought their last fiasco of a conversation to mind), it was better than nothing.

The first walk was a joy to Zoro. Walking down the stairs hurt particularly, but he endured it. He noticed Perona watching him carefully and guessed that Mihawk had instructed her to give him a report. It was a little surprising that she had let go of his arm after his first few steps out of the room. Even as he made his way down the stairs, she merely watched and walked – slowly – beside him as he clutched at the railing and hobbled down one step at a time. He felt a grudging appreciation rise. Whether it was her idea or Mihawk’s, he couldn’t deny that he did prefer to do things on his own, so being allowed and able to do something as simple as walk down the stairs was… Nice. For the longest time, he had been incredibly independent and to have been so helpless over the past five days had been frustrating beyond belief. It felt good to have some measure of independence again – even if he paid for it in aches and pains.

… … …

Perona felt cranky. Mihawk had gone off somewhere again, saying he’d be back in a day or two. She had scurried to the bookcase, eager to see whether he’d updated his diary, but… It wasn’t there. It wasn’t anywhere on any of the shelves. He had moved it!

She wondered if it was just his habit to keep it in different places or if he’d moved it because he suspected – or knew – that she’d seen it. Either way, he had deprived her of the one thing she had been looking forward to doing as soon as he’d gone.

She went out to the courtyard, stamped her foot on the ground and gave a little scream of frustration.

“What the hell are you screaming about?”

Perona turned. Zoro was leaning heavily against the door jamb.

“Nothing,” she said. “Wait. How did you get here?”

“I walked.”

“ _No_. You know what I mean! How did you get here without getting lost? Or” – she frowned at him for a moment – “did you mean to go somewhere else?”

He looked a down at his feet and mumbled something.

“I can’t hear you.” 

“I _said_ that I wanted to go out – to the front of the castle.”

She gave him a look of bewilderment mixed with exasperation. “Wha-? How can you _still_ lose your way to the _front door_? You’ve been here at least three months now!”

“Whatever,” growled Zoro. “I’ll just take my walk here. Doesn’t make a difference.”

He hobbled down the step and started down the garden path. Perona made no move to help him. Mihawk had told her to let Zoro do things on his own where possible. Keep an eye on him, but don’t coddle him, Mihawk had said. Those instructions had suited her just fine. His disgusted reaction to her offer to teach him to read kanji had been insulting and it still rankled two days later. She had felt bad about making fun of his illiteracy and had tried to make up for it by being nice, and that was what she got. She had half a mind to let him die of his wounds the next time Mihawk beat him up – too bad Mihawk probably wouldn’t allow her to do that.

Expressionlessly, she watched him make his way to a bench and seat himself there. He leaned back and stared up at the sky, which – she now noticed – was unusually clear and blue that day. She contemplated dropping a negative hollow or two on him and looked down at her fingers. She hadn’t done that in a while, actually.

Zoro spoke up suddenly. “Why didn’t you set your depressing ghosts on me that day?”

Perona drew in a sharp breath. He couldn’t read minds, could he? She pulled herself together quickly though, and said, “For your information, those are _negative hollows_. They’re not ‘depressing ghosts!’ And what are you talking about? What day?”

“When Mihawk sent you with the books.”

Oh. That day.

“Did you _want_ me to do that? I can oblige any time.” She raised a hand and smirked.

“No!” He actually looked alarmed at the prospect. “Don’t be stupid. I want to know _why_ you didn’t do it then.”  

She dropped her hand and started to walk away, back towards the castle. “I like to conserve energy for when it’s most deserved. Besides,” she added, “you were depressed enough already without needing help from my hollows.”

She went back up to her room and flopped on the bed. For the umpteenth time, she wondered if Kuma had sent her here for the express purpose of having a laugh at her expense. After all, this long-gone kingdom and this castle did sound like her ideal place – gloomy, dark, and just the right amount of scary. But there were no servants, and it was just herself… And two men who were not at all inclined towards cuteness.

Almost before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep. When she woke up (from a nice dream in which Kumashi had brought her some strawberry cakes), the sky outside her window was almost black. That meant it was probably time for dinner, and she hadn’t made dinner yet, and that idiot Zoro was probably going to be even more annoying because he would be hungry. 

She rubbed her bleary eyes and turned – and screamed.

Zoro was standing in her doorway, the half-open door letting the dim light from the corridor stream into her room from behind him. At her scream, he clapped his hands over his ears.

“ _What_ are you doing there?” she said.

“I came to wake you up for dinner. But I wouldn’t have if I’d known you’d screech like that.”

“Can’t you knock?” Perona pressed a hand to her heart and took a few deep breaths. The sound of the door opening must have been what woke her up.

“I _did_ ,” said Zoro. “I knocked several times. Then I opened the door and you woke up and screeched like a bat just out of hell.”

She glared at him and got out of bed. “Whatever. I’ll go make dinner now. Happy?”

“It’s done.”

“Huh?”

“I made dinner.”

“ _Why_?”

“Oh, just go down and eat already!” He turned around and headed for the dining hall.

She followed him, wondering why he had even bothered. He had never come all the way up to her bedroom before this. Her bedroom was one floor above the dining hall, and that meant that he had not only walked back into the castle from the garden, but also to the kitchen, then to the dining hall one floor above, and up yet another floor to her bedroom. And knowing him, he had probably gotten lost somewhere along the way, which meant he had probably wandered elsewhere too. That was a lot of walking for him to do, even though he was much better now.

Dinner turned out to be rice, something that looked like burnt fish, and beans. Perona sighed. Of course he would use the tinned beans. At least he’d attempted to add some variety with the fish.

They sat down in their usual seats and ate in silence. She was puzzled about his behaviour, but didn’t feel like questioning him, so she let it be.

It was a surprise to her when Zoro broke the silence. He coughed and said, “I was thinking...”

There was a pause.

“Wonderful,” she muttered sarcastically. “And what were you thinking?”

“That… I probably should learn to read kanji.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“That’s-if-the-offer-is-still-open,” he said in a rush. “You know, you said you could teach me and all that. But only if you want to. It just crossed my mind.”

She stared at him and he stared at the corner of the table. So he actually did want to learn to read kanji? And he was asking her to teach him?

“Is this” – she pointed to the food on the table – “your way of buttering me up? Are you trying to be nice so I’ll teach you?”

Zoro gripped his fork harder and thumped his hand on the table, making her start. “I’m trying to _apologise_ , damn it!”

“Geez, no need to be violent!” Perona took up another piece of the (very) overcooked fish. “What are you apologising for anyway?” She felt like she needed to be sure that he knew exactly for what he was apologising.

A few seconds passed before he answered, “I was… Not very nice. When you asked if I wanted to learn to read.”

_Understatement_ , she thought. She held her tongue, however, and waited for him to go on.

“So, this… This is my apology, okay?” he said rather fiercely.

That was all he would say and Perona figured that was as far as Roronoa Zoro would go in an apology. Better than nothing, however. His overall behaviour made sense now. Typical man – he had to go about it the hard way instead of just _saying_ he was sorry. But then perhaps this way suited him better. He did seem like the “doing” type rather than the talking type.

She let him wait as she chewed her food placidly. When she spoke again, all she said was, “Okay.”

“Okay? Okay, what?”

“Okay, apology accepted.” She reached for her glass of water, secretly marvelling that he really had put in effort – to bring the food upstairs from the kitchen plus the glasses and the jug of water must have meant at least three trips up and down unless he was able to balance some things on his head as well while he walked. Perona regarded him thoughtfully for a while. “And okay, I’ll help you.”

Zoro was visibly relieved – his shoulders relaxed, and the hard tension around his eyes disappeared. He continued eating as though nothing had happened. Perona felt a corner of her mouth turn up just a little.

Something was pricking at her conscience though, and after a few more mouthfuls of rice and beans, she finally said, “I’m sorry too.”

He looked up. She prodded her plate aimlessly with a spoon, and cast her eyes on the bookcase at the other end of the room.

Amazingly, Zoro seemed to understand. He nodded once. And that was that.

… … …

Upon his return, Mihawk immediately felt the change in atmosphere. It was rather fascinating in a melodramatic sort of way. First, Zoro had looked like the offended party and Perona had gone from smug to looking sulky. Then somehow, things had reversed themselves and it was Perona who gave Zoro the cold shoulder (except when forced to interact due to their nurse/patient status) and Zoro started looking faintly uncomfortable around her. But whatever it had been, it was evidently over as they appeared to be on more friendly terms now – the bitter edge to every interaction had gone.

They were friendly enough that one evening, when he glanced out from an upper window he saw Zoro and Perona out in the courtyard with several books strewn around them. That was extremely unusual in so very many ways. Perona seemed to be showing Zoro something – she was pointing at something in an open book and was looking irritated. Zoro threw up his hands and was snapping back at her. She flicked a finger at his forehead, and it must have hurt because he recoiled with a hand to the spot she had hit.

Entry #970 in his diary read as follows:

> _Whatever disagreement Roronoa and Perona had appears to have been resolved. They’re on speaking terms again, and they’re as snappy as ever with each other. They make quite a pair. Perhaps having them around won’t be as tiresome as I thought it would be._


	5. Chapter 5

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #955** :

_I shall need to take them both out to Notson Ear to get more food and some new clothes. I am certain that Roronoa has been wearing the same outfit since he arrived. And he smells funny._

_Ghost Girl appears to have found some musty old clothes in the castle somewhere – they look really ancient – and she wears them on the days she washes her usual clothes. They look terrible on her._

… … …

Zoro tapped his foot impatiently and mumbled something under his breath.

Mihawk looked at the clock. “Go fetch her, Roronoa. I’ll meet you at the boat.”

“Why me?”

“Because,” said Mihawk, taking his hat off the hat rack and placing it carefully on his head, “I am Hawkeye, the Warlord Dracule Mihawk of the _Ouka Shichibukai_. And you are just Roronoa Zoro, miserable pirate hunter.”

“Miserable?!”

But Mihawk merely walked away, his cloak billowing behind him.

Grumbling, Zoro mounted the stairs. He yelled, “Oi, Perona! Get down here! We’re leaving!”

Her door swung open just as he arrived there (thus depriving him of a perfectly good, loud banging-on-the-door moment). She held what looked like a long piece of paper rolled up in her hand.

“Oh, stop your shouting!” she said, starting down the stairs with him. “It’s not my fault that Mihawk suddenly decided this morning that he wants to go to Notson Ear! I need time to write out a shopping list!”

“Women!” said Zoro, rolling his eyes. He received a smack on the back of the head for that. “Ow! I could have fallen down the stairs, you know!”

A hollow floated round him, giggling. He wished it was solid so he could strangle it.

“I’ll have you know that most of this list is stuff for you two _men_!” She loosened her hold on the piece of paper and it unrolled itself.

He took the list from her. Perona had written it in kanji and kana but he could recognise some of the words now.

“Bread. Meat.” He squinted. The hollow hovered over his shoulder, as though it was trying to read the list as well. “Something-or-other oil. Fish. Fruits. Onions. Carrots. Soap stock.”

“Soup stock,” she corrected him. “What is _soap_ _stock_ in the first place? Soap itself is further down the list. The other one was cooking oil.”

He skimmed the rest of the list. “Don’t know what this is… Or that… No idea. No idea. Whatever. Bandages.”

“Of course you’d mostly recognise the food. Medication and simple household items? Not important to you. Still, at least you can read more than just ‘sake’ and ‘katana’ and those other few words now. Your vocabulary was bizarre…”

Zoro ignored her comments and went on reading. As far as he could tell, it was mostly food, first aid supplies, and new clothes – and household items too, since she said so. The last item on the list was books.

“Books?” he asked. “What books do you even need? Doesn’t Mihawk have enough for you?”

“I am not as obsessed with swords and fighting as you two are,” said Perona, unfurling her umbrella.

Zoro didn’t understand her frequent use of the umbrella – it wasn’t as though it was very sunny or very rainy in Shikkearu, or indeed the whole of Kuraigana. It was usually just… Cloudy.

Perona went on: “I should much prefer to have some other reading materials. Perhaps some romantic tragedy or a good, chilling horror story! I wish I’d brought my books from Thriller Bark with me.” She sighed. “We also need to find you some easier books to read. The ones Mihawk gave you are full of difficult kanji! And you’re probably sick of reading out of _Ghouls of the Grand Line_. Don’t give me that look – I _know_ you’re sick of it because your expression every time you see the book tells me as much. Maybe there’ll be some children’s books – stories with sword fights and stuff like that.”

That last remark was unexpected. An odd feeling crept up on him. Perona really wasn’t that bad once one got used to her… Even if she did get screechy when she was mad.

The hollow looked at him and giggled again.

They had left the castle grounds now and were approaching the forest. He might have defeated all the humandrills once before, but they still inhabited the forest and it was always unwise to assume perfect safety in the wilderness. Zoro’s left hand came up to rest on the hilt of Wado Ichimonji.

Perona must have seen the motion because she asked, “Where are the other two swords today?”

Zoro replied, “Mihawk’s instructions. I am to focus on using one sword only for now.”

“I see.”

They walked on for a little while before she said, “So why that one?”

“This one?”

“You seem to like it a lot.”

He glanced down at Wado Ichimonji. Was it that noticeable that he had a special preference for this particular sword? He ran his thumb over the material at the hilt and thought of Kuina.

A sharp tug on his shirt sleeve startled him out of his reverie.

“ _This way_ , silly!” Perona dragged him back onto the path. “Are you not even able to follow a path? If I wasn’t here, how would you find your way to the boat? Then again, Mihawk probably wouldn’t let you wander around alone…”

… … …

Mihawk sighed. He had resigned himself to playing the role of financial benefactor, but that didn’t mean he particularly liked it. Zoro had arrived on Kuraigana without a penny on him, and Perona had only had a purse containing a few hundred beris. Those meagre funds of hers had been depleted on their first trip out of Kuraigana, which had taken place a week after Mihawk had returned from Marineford, and after he’d agreed to train Zoro.

This time, on his second trip out with them, he doled out three thousand beris to Perona, and one thousand to Zoro. His student objected vehemently to this apparent unfairness. Mihawk responded by saying that Perona had a whole list of necessities to buy for them all, and that he expected her to spend no more than a thousand or so on herself.

“If I gave _you_ the same amount,” he said, giving Zoro a cool but hard look, “you would spend half of it on alcohol and then spend another lot of money on some sort of bulky bag in which to carry your alcohol, leaving you with maybe only fifty beris for important things – like clothes.”

Zoro bit his lip, unable to deny the truth of it. Perona placed the money carefully in her bag, gloating silently.

“I insist that you get yourself new clothing, Roronoa. There is no need for you to walk around looking like a beggar, with worn old clothes that reek.”

Zoro looked outraged. “I do not ‘reek’!”

“You do,” said Perona. Mihawk fought the urge to burst out laughing at her matter-of-fact manner.

Zoro rounded on her. “What did you say?”

“That reminds me. I need to add perfume and deodorant to the list.” She whipped out a pencil and scribbled on her shopping list. “It was better when you were laid up in bed and couldn’t do anything much. You didn’t sweat as much then, and so you smelled much better. You should shower more often.”

Mihawk allowed himself a half-smile. “Well, Ghost Girl, I leave him in your charge. Make sure he gets all the things he needs. And make sure he doesn’t get lost. No arguments, Roronoa. It’s obvious that your sense of direction is abysmal. Go with her, and _stay_ with her. Don’t make me chain you two together.”

They both looked horrified at the idea of being chained together. Mihawk rather enjoyed their expressions.

“You can help her carry all the things she needs to get. I will meet you two at seven at The Drunken Squirrel.” He jerked a finger towards the bar nearest the dock.

Then he added, “Remember – Marines rarely come here but it would be wise to not go flaunting your abilities about. _Especially_ you, Roronoa. Your face is unfortunately getting to be rather well-known. There’ll be no need to call attention to yourself.”

As he walked away, he heard Zoro grumble, “I do _not_ smell!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I conflated the terms "Ouka Shichibukai" (the Japanese name and the favoured term of scanlators) and "Warlords of the Sea" (the official English translation of the "Ouka Shichibukai") into this one idea wherein the group are the Ouka Shichibukai but their individual titles are "Warlords [of the Sea]", which is why at the beginning of this chapter, Mihawk refers to himself as "the Warlord Dracule Mihawk of the Ouka Shichibukai".


	6. Chapter 6

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, #968** :

_Sometimes I wonder how Roronoa got to where he is today. He can be so childish. Unfortunately he’s old enough to be fond of alcohol. Today he was sulking in his room and drowning his sorrows in wine – MY wine – for some reason that he refused to state. Ghost Girl must have annoyed him somehow._

… … …

Zoro shifted the shopping bags higher up on his shoulder. He was lugging at least five shopping bags and one box, and was bored out of his mind. Perona, clearly trying to make the most of the trip, had attended to his clothing needs first, hauling him into a clothing store and forcing him to pick out new clothes. He didn’t see what was wrong with just rotating the two T-shirts he currently owned. Why did he need more? He could just walk around shirtless if need be anyway.

After that, they had to hunt down the items on her shopping list. Foodstuff was easy to find, and so were the basic first aid items. One by one, she ticked off the items on her shopping list and Zoro fervently hoped that they would be done soon. He was certain that they would have been done sooner had she not kept getting distracted by random “cute” things.

She had cast longing eyes at several frilly umbrellas in a store, cooed over teddy bears and other stuffed toys, debated with herself about buying a strawberry ice-cream cone, admired beribboned hairbands in an accessories store, and sighed over a pearl-studded barrette. When she squealed over what must have been the fifth teddy bear she’d seen in a shop window, Zoro felt his patience snap.

“What _is_ it with you and stupid toys like that?” he grumbled, shuffling about and trying to figure out the best way to hold all the shopping bags and the unwieldy box in his arms.

“They’re not stupid,” she said, still looking at the bear. “I happen to like them. They’re cute!”

“What are you – ten?”

Perona turned and glared at him. “ _Obviously_ not. What’s wrong with liking cute things?!”

One of the shopping bags slipped off his arm and fell onto the ground. Its contents – bandages and various other medical necessities – spilled out. He muttered curses under his breath as he tried to pick them up. Perona knelt down to help.

Zoro said, irritably, “Shouldn’t you be acting your age? Aren’t you eighteen or something? I thought girls preferred to act mature instead of fussing over kid toys.” He put down the box and used his free hand to reach out for the fallen objects whilst his other hand held up the bag. “Even those stupid clothes you wear are like little girls’ clothes! I didn’t think girls over twelve dressed like that.”

He stuffed the last item into the bag and looked up, expecting her to hand him the things she had picked up. She was holding several rolls of bandages and a bottle of medicine. But she was staring at him with a frozen look on her face.

“What?” he asked.

Perona seemed to come out of a daze. “Nothing,” she replied, and dropped the things she had been holding into the bag. “Don’t be such a klutz!”

She didn’t say anything else to him until they had gotten a few more necessary things on her list. Then, she said, “Right. We’ll go back to The Drunken Squirrel now.”

At that point, Zoro began to sense that something was wrong. While he was delighted to be going to the bar, he also knew that she hadn’t done any of her own shopping yet. So why were they heading there before she got her stuff?

Once at The Drunken Squirrel, she dumped him there with Mihawk and set off on her own. Zoro watched her leave with a feeling of trouble brewing in his head. 

“You get _one_ beer. That’s all I’m paying for,” said Mihawk. He called for a beer for Zoro.

Zoro sat down opposite Mihawk. When his beer arrived, he drank half the mug at one go.

“Did something happen, Roronoa?”

“No.”

“I do not believe that is true. Perona all but fled this place just now. It was as though she wanted to be away from you. Why?”

He gaped at Mihawk. “How should I know? I didn’t do anything! I was like a slave, in fact – carrying around all those things!”

“As you were supposed to,” said Mihawk. “After all, I told you to assist her. And I expected her to avail herself of your assistance in carrying her own shopping too. Yet… Here you are. Why did she bring you here when she wasn’t finished with her tasks yet?”

“I don’t know! She just started acting weird!”

Mihawk tilted his head to one side. “‘Just started acting weird’. Pray tell, Roronoa, what happened today?”

Zoro took another gulp of beer, careful not to finish it all immediately. He screwed up his face in concentration and recounted the day to Mihawk.

When he finished, Mihawk looked at him thoughtfully and pushed his plate of potato chips towards the centre of the table. “So you called the things she likes stupid, and said she was acting like a child.”

Zoro shrugged.

“How old are you, Roronoa?”

“Almost twenty.” He reached out to take some of the potato chips.

“Do you know Perona’s age?”

“Eighteen.”

“She is twenty-three.”

Zoro choked on a chip.  

… … …

Perona had never felt so solemn when shopping for clothes before. She held up a black and pink shirt. It was so cute! But… Was it childish? Well, maybe this one wasn’t so bad. It was just black with pink stripes and a ribbon at the neck. Nothing inherently childish about that.

_Heavens, this is ridiculous!_ _Why should I care what that idiot thinks?_

She put the shirt into the basket and took up several other pieces of clothing with a determined air, and strode into the fitting room. Why should she care what Zoro thought of her appearance? He barely had a right to comment on someone else’s fashion choices! All he wore were white T-shirts and black pants, and that ridiculous green haramaki. What did he know about style?

She tried on the clothes she had chosen. One dress didn’t fit well so she tossed it aside. The black and pink shirt suited her just fine. So did a red skirt with lace edging. Then she put on a purple dress with soft ruffles. It looked very nice on her, she thought. She turned around to see how the dress looked at a different angle, and sank into a reverie as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror.

_Did_ the frills and ribbons and lace and prints on her usual clothes all make her outfits look… Juvenile? Fashion had not been very much of a question on Thriller Bark. She had been the only one to actually bother about what she was wearing and she had gotten most of her ideas from a few old books and magazines she had found lying around. Besides, she really did like all the feminine details (even if she did mix them in with things like skulls and ghosts).

There hadn’t been anyone else to advise her, so to speak, on style. No one on Thriller Bark ever saw anything wrong with her outfits. Zoro was the first one ever to express an opinion about her appearance. It would have been much more satisfying had his opinion not been that she dressed like a twelve-year-old. Perona had to admit that it stung. She wasn’t _old_ , but she certainly wasn’t a teenager anymore. It stung twice as much when a comment like that came from someone who was actually younger than she was.

She twirled a lock of her hair and regarded her reflection solemnly. But what if he did have a point? What if he was right in that she _had_ been behaving like a little girl? She recalled that Mihawk had once stared her down in the middle of a rant about the lack of household staff and had pronounced her a spoilt child. Perhaps she really did have to start considering things like that.

The two pigtails _were_ a little childish, she supposed, but she had gotten so accustomed to the style, and it was convenient. Also, it was cute. She liked “cute”. Then again… She would never tell Zoro so, but she _had_ been contemplating changing it up a little lately. If he knew that now, he would surely make fun of her for it or worse, he might think she was doing it for him! Stupid Zoro. Well, she would do what she liked! Swordsmen with no sense of direction and no taste in fashion didn’t matter. What did he know anyway?

_Be the bigger person_ , she told herself. _Be the_ adult _. Be dignified._

She took off the purple dress and added it to the “yes” pile.

… … …

“Why the hell didn’t she say she was twenty-three?” demanded Zoro.

Mihawk gave him a look. “You called her immature, assuming she was eighteen or so. How would her correcting that assumption and saying she’s actually five years older than that help matters?”

“I thought women liked it when people think they’re younger than they are.”

Roronoa Zoro was still such a child himself, mused Mihawk. In swordsmanship he excelled beyond many older men, but his youth showed in so many other aspects. “Don’t be stupid, Roronoa. Given what you said to her, it could not be very flattering.”

“That’s dumb,” said Zoro.

Mihawk raised his eyebrows. “I should think that she’d be quite offended, and perhaps not without basis.”

“Are you saying it’s _my_ fault?”

“Yes.”

Zoro looked even more outraged than he had earlier when Mihawk and Perona had suggested that he needed to improve his hygiene habits. “What the hell?? It’s _my_ fault that she’s childish?”

“No, you’re at fault for calling her childish purely on the basis of her preferences and clothing.” Mihawk agreed with the idea that she was a little immature, but he based his assessment entirely on her whining and complaining. He wasn’t about to tell Zoro that, though. “Even _if_ you happened to be right, that isn’t the sort of thing you tell someone you don’t know that well. Especially not in the way I imagine you said it.”

“Hey, I –” He stopped abruptly, mouth agape for half a second before it clamped shut.

Mihawk wondered what he’d been about to say. “Hey, I’m polite”? “Hey, I don’t see why I shouldn’t speak my mind”? _“_ Hey, I know her well enough”? He amused himself for a while by thinking of what possible words could have followed Zoro’s “Hey, I –”. The third one he’d thought of was the most potentially intriguing, though.

He signalled to the bartender for another glass of wine. Zoro’s mug of beer was almost empty, but he did nothing about that. If Zoro wanted more alcohol, then he’d have to pay for it himself. Mihawk didn’t know how much money Zoro had left over after purchasing his new clothes, but he really didn’t care.

Perona returned to The Drunken Squirrel just before seven. Mihawk took in her more sedate mood at a glance. More sedate and a little cold, but that was all? The deeply-offended air he had expected her to have was surprisingly lacking. If anything, she seemed to be standing on her dignity instead.

To his amusement, he saw that Zoro was eyeing Perona warily, as though he was assessing her mood.  Mihawk questioned them briefly about what they wanted for dinner, placed the order then resumed his observation. He was curious as to how long it would take Perona to notice Zoro’s (poorly hidden) attempts at cautious scrutiny.

The answer was: about five minutes. She soon picked up on Zoro’s odd glances and gave him a look of distrust. “What?”

_This should be interesting_ , thought Mihawk.

“Nothing,” muttered Zoro, quickly turning away.

“What’s with that look?”

“What look? I’m not giving you any look.”

Oh, was Zoro getting flustered? Mihawk called for more wine. His two dinner companions didn’t seem to notice as their conversation escalated.

“I _know_ you were looking at me oddly! Don’t lie!”

“I was not! You’re imagining things. Why would I be ‘looking at you oddly’?”

“That’s exactly what I asked you!”

“You’re imagining things,” repeated Zoro. “Maybe you’re so starved for attention that you imagine I’m staring at you.”

Perona made an angry sound that sounded like a cross between a frustrated growl and a scream. One look at her face and Mihawk knew exactly what was coming next. Zoro realised the same thing a moment before it happened, and a moment too late.

She hissed a low “Negative hollow!” and the words were followed by the appearance of three grinning ghostly shapes that immediately made for Zoro, zipped through him, grinned, and disappeared. Zoro slumped down in his chair until he fell off it and lay face-down on the floor, mumbling about how he was worth less than a cockroach.

It was not the first time Mihawk had seen this happen (although this was the first time Zoro had been reduced to a motionless and seemingly boneless mass on the ground; usually he was just on his hands and knees) and he had to give Perona credit for having a spectacularly effective Devil Fruit power.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're following this story here on AO3 (despite the entirety of it already being on FFN) as I make minor edits and post the chapters, I'd just like to say: thank you and I hope you're enjoying it! :)

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #980** :

_I am beginning to come round to the idea that despite the squabbling, those two would make a good couple._ Akagami _once said he’s a good matchmaker. Wonder what he’d do with these two._

… … …

After the Notson Ear incident, Zoro wasn’t sure if Perona would want to continue his reading lessons. She had seemed pretty mad. That last negative hollow blast had been awful. He’d felt pathetic for a full twenty-four hours and Mihawk had had to half drag him to the boat so they could get back to Kuraigana. He would prefer to not go through a similar experience again. Also, he was certain that Mihawk had been on the verge of laughing out loud at his predicament. That made him even more averse to a repeat performance.

To his surprise, a day later she said, “Try to read the books I got you and we’ll have a go at it the next afternoon you have a break from Mihawk.”

Her nonchalance both puzzled him and made him suspicious. _Was_ she mad at him? It didn’t seem like it. But he couldn’t be certain; never having paid close attention to female behaviour. He suddenly wished he’d been more observant of Nami and Robin on the Sunny.

It was another couple of days before he had time to spare for another reading lesson. He hadn’t liked to ask Mihawk to give him specific time off to learn to read, so they just had to make do with whatever time he had.

“Have you read any of the books?” asked Perona, when he entered the room they had turned into a study.

He tossed the two books onto the table and pointed at one of them. “Just a couple of pages there.”

Perona looked pleasantly surprised. “Well, that’s good.” She seemed to not quite know what to say.  Zoro felt smug.  Evidently she’d expected him to say he hadn’t read a thing.

His next thought was: _Wait. Does she think I’m that lazy?_ Zoro wasn’t sure he liked the implication that he was lazy. (Though why this should have bothered him he wasn’t sure. Nami, Sanji and even Franky had all remarked at various times on his preference for sleeping instead of doing useful things around the ship and he had never cared a whit about their comments.)

“It’s interesting,” he said. It was the truth. The book was clearly a children’s book, but he could hardly complain since his kanji reading ability was barely better than a child of five. But it wasn’t the typical fairy story that Zoro hated – it was a story about a young farmhand who inherits a magic sword and discovers that it can cut anything except human beings. He wondered how she’d known how to pick something like that. If it was instinct, it was pretty good instinct.

“Had some trouble with some of the words, though,” he admitted.

“Which ones?”

It took them the better part of an hour to get through ten pages (which wasn’t very much text since about half of every page was taken up by illustrations). Perona eventually suggested taking a break. Zoro agreed. He left the room to go and find some beer. When he returned with a bottle in one hand, he found her sitting sideways in her chair with her legs propped up over one arm of the chair. She was reading.

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking a break?” he said.

She calmly turned a page. “Reading a book that I like counts as a break to me.”

He saw that the book was _The Ghouls of the Grand Line_. Hadn’t she finished that book already? She was nuts. He settled down in his own seat. “Why do you keep reading that?”

“Because I like it,” she replied without looking up.

“You have weird taste.”

“Says the person who’s married to his swords.”

“I am not!”

Perona didn’t respond.

Zoro let his eyes roam aimlessly around the room as he drank the beer, which he thought was excellent. Mihawk did have a knack for selecting good alcohol.

Eventually, his gaze came to rest on Perona, who seemed to be comparing passages in the book because she was turning the pages back and forth for a while. At that angle, she did look a bit older than eighteen or nineteen. He still had trouble reconciling her age with her face. It was probably her round eyes; they made her look extra youthful.

_She’s not bad-looking, really. And she does have nice legs_.

He froze with the bottle at his lips. What… What was that thought? He shook his head as if to clear it. Well, it was a legitimate observation! No need to feel embarrassed about thinking that. If a girl had nice legs, then she had nice legs. He was quite free to make objective judgements.

Yet somehow he felt he needed to get up and leave the room. So he did.

… … …

Perona felt like she spent ten more minutes every morning now deciding how to do her hair. It was all that idiot’s fault. When habit made her tie her hair in her usual two pigtails, she’d stare at the mirror and question whether it was truly too childish for a woman of twenty-three. When on impulse she tried something else – a half-ponytail, – she also ended up staring at the mirror, and wondering what that stupid Zoro would say, if he said anything at all. She _really_ didn’t want him thinking it was because of what he said. Once, she got so fed up with herself that she contemplated cutting her hair short. But the thought hadn’t lasted long. She liked her long hair.

Finally having decided – yet again – on her standard hairstyle, she descended the stairs and sauntered into the dining hall. Only Zoro was there, idly turning pages of the newspaper and munching on a sandwich.

“Where’s Mihawk?” she asked.

“He said something about _Shichibukai_ business and left after eating.”

“Oh.” Perona sat down and helped herself to the sandwiches she’d made. It had become her habit to make simple stuff for breakfast the night before so that she wouldn’t have to wake up so early. Mihawk, who was usually the first one down to breakfast, had figured this out and would bring the food up himself. If Mihawk wasn’t around, Zoro would just sit there until she brought the food up.

_One day I’ll take breakfast up to my room and leave him to starve_. _Missing a day’s breakfast won’t kill him._

She noticed that Zoro had stopped flipping the pages and was now concentrating on one in particular. She craned her neck as far as she could to see what it was. It appeared to be some news about the Marines.

“What’s so interesting there?” she asked.

“Smoker’s taking charge of a new unit,” he said briefly.

“Who’s Smoker?”

He turned the newspaper, pointed to one of the articles, and pushed the newspaper across the table towards her. The article’s headline read: WHITE HUNTER TRANSFERS TO G-5. The accompanying picture showed a tough-looking man with white hair and two cigars in his mouth.

Perona said, “Is he called Smoker because he’s smoking two cigars at the same time?”

Zoro stared at her. Then he burst out laughing, startling her a little. She had never seen him laugh quite like that before – it was loud and hearty. And it made him look significantly less severe than he usually did. She thought it was a good look on him.

“I don’t know why he’s called Smoker,” said Zoro, “but that’s as good a reason as any I’ve ever heard. Though it probably also has something to do with his Devil Fruit.”

He explained that the man had a Logia Devil Fruit that allowed him to become and to manipulate smoke. Smoker was apparently pretty formidable and had chased the Straw Hats all the way from Logue Town.

Zoro took a swig from the bottle on his right.

“Really? Alcohol at this hour? Are you crazy?” Perona shook her head at him and continued reading the article, twirling one of her curls around a finger as she read it. She looked at the picture again. There was a woman standing just behind Smoker in the photograph. “Who’s that?”

Zoro glanced over at the picture. Perona saw a slight shift of expression in his face.

“That’s his subordinate, Tashigi.”

“His subordinate? But she looks so… Unlike him.” She thought the sort of person who could keep up with a guy like this Smoker would look harder, more seasoned. This woman was slender and slight; almost bookish in appearance.

“She’s tough in her own way. She knows her way around swords.”

“Oh?”

Zoro either didn’t have anything more to say or he didn’t want to. He merely shrugged and then concentrated on his breakfast.

Perona studied the picture. This Tashigi didn’t look like her idea of a tough Marine at all. But if Zoro was to be believed, then she had better-than-average skill with a sword. He didn’t praise swordsmanship in others easily. For some reason, deep down, she felt a tug of something very much like disappointment. The finger that had been playing with the stray lock of hair stilled.


	8. Chapter 8

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #953** :

_Roronoa came crawling back today. That was a surprise. But he surprised me even more after that. Seems like he managed to beat all the mad monkeys outside, and how he wants me to teach him. Teach him so that he can eventually beat me? It actually made me laugh. But he has determination; I’ll give him that._

_And maybe with him around, the ghost girl will go bother him instead of me._

… … …

Zoro got up and faced his teacher again. He much preferred using three swords but if Mihawk insisted that his single-sword style needed finessing before working on using all three, then fine! He’d show him! It was a cold, foggy night, but sweat still poured down his face. He ignored it and raised his sword once more.

“Don’t hunch,” said Mihawk.

“I’m not hunching! I’m –”

“Keeping your centre of gravity low, yes, yes. I’m not saying don’t bend your knees or don’t lean forwards to keep your balance. I’m saying: _don’t hunch_. Square your shoulders and look up properly.”

Not for the first time that day (or that week, even), Zoro wanted to hurl his sword at Mihawk. Maybe if he was lucky, it would strike him in the face or something. Unfortunately, the more likely outcome would be that Mihawk would catch the sword with unerring accuracy and then, as punishment for reacting immaturely, confiscate it for a week. That was what had happened with Wado Ichimonji two days before. Now he was using Shusui instead. Not having Wado Ichimonji in his possession made him twice as irritable, which did not help matters at all.

He thought he saw a gauzy white shape bobbing over the wall. One of Perona’s ghosts? Where was it going?

The next thing he knew, something smashed into his side and he fell on the ground, all the air knocked out of him.

“If you don’t pay attention, you give your opponent openings of all sorts,” Mihawk said. Zoro grimaced with pain from where he lay curled on the ground.

“What was… That – that was unfair!” gasped Zoro. “That – wasn’t sword-fighting.”

“I suppose it wasn’t.” Mihawk slung his sword over his back. “But I did hit you with the hilt of my sword, so it _could_ be called sword-fighting – in the loosest sense of the term.”

Zoro struggled to a sitting position, trying to get his breath back. His left side hurt where Mihawk had struck him.

“The point,” continued Mihawk, “is that when you give your opponent even a small chance, a wise one will take it. The specific weapon hardly matters.”

“Duelling doesn’t work that way!”

“Oh, so you’ll always be sure to come up against another swordsman who is all about fair play?”

“I expect fair play from my teacher!”

“As your teacher, it is my duty to show you all possibilities that I can imagine.”

Zoro had no appropriate retort to that.

Mihawk extended a hand to him. “We’re done for today. Get up, Roronoa. It’s probably just bruised. I don’t _think_ I broke any bones of yours.”

When they got back to the castle, Mihawk went straight to his own quarters and left Zoro standing in the entrance hall on his own. Perona was nowhere to be seen – or heard. Zoro found that odd. And oddly annoying. Where was she when she was actually needed?

He made his way to the dining hall and helped himself to some of the wine in a bottle on a side table. Then he looked around to see if the first aid kit was anywhere in that room. It didn’t seem to be, and that triggered another wave of irritation. Perona must’ve taken it up to her own room or kept it somewhere else. Why couldn’t she put the first aid kit in the main shared space? It was common sense to put it in a place where it could be easily accessed! If she was older than he was, shouldn’t she have more sense?

He turned around a bit too suddenly and the pain in his side at the movement just made him angrier. It was kind of her fault he was saddled with another injury now (minor though it was). If it hadn’t been for that stupid ghost of hers appearing over the wall, he wouldn’t have gotten distracted. She shouldn’t be letting her ghosts wander about!

Something in the back of his mind prodded him and suggested that he was blaming her irrationally. He shoved the thought away.

He strode up the next flight of stairs to Perona’s room and rapped loudly on her door. There was some shuffling sound in the room and then she opened the door.

Zoro was taken aback. Perona’s hair was not up in its usual two tails. Her hair hung in loose waves about her shoulders and made her look quite different. Less of a girl and more… More of a woman?

“Where did you put the damned first aid kit?” was what he had meant to ask, but what came out was: “What the hell did you do to your hair?”

Perona stared. “You can _not_ have come here just to ask me that. What does my hair matter to you? For your information, I was about to go to bed. It’s nearly midnight! What do you want?”

“Why’d you do that?”

A ghost poked its head through the door and giggled at Zoro.

“Do what?” said Perona.

“Do your hair like that.”

“ _Huh_? I haven’t done anything to my hair! I prefer not to sleep with my hair all done up. What’s wrong with you? What do you want?”

His actual purpose came back to him. “I wouldn’t have needed to come up here if you’d left the first aid kit in the dining hall or somewhere easy to find!”

She blinked. Then she looked him up and down. “Are you hurt? You look fine. Is your injury in your brain? It must be.”

“NO! It’s just a bruise; he got me in the side.” Zoro gestured vaguely at his torso. “Just give me whatever salve or lotion thing that’s good for pain like this.”

“Let me see.”

Zoro took a step back. “No.”

Without warning, she reached out and – with amazing accuracy – jabbed him with a finger in the bruised spot. He flinched and objected loudly to it.

“Ha, I knew it,” she said. “What is _wrong_ with you? You know Mihawk doesn’t do things in halves! He could’ve fractured a rib or something. Let –”

“ _He_ said he probably didn’t do more than bruise me. I’m going to take his word for it.”

Perona gave him a funny look. “All right. If you want to take his word for it, why come here? You don’t really need to put anything on a bruise.”

Zoro was stumped. She was right. He’d been bruised more times than he could count and while some stuff did help alleviate the ache, there were many instances in which he’d let it be. So… Why had he felt like he really wanted to know where the first aid kit was?

She sighed, turned around and went into her room. He saw her rummage through the first aid kit and take out a small bottle filled with pale yellow liquid. She returned to the doorway and handed it to him.

“There,” she said, “that’s for pain relief and stiffness and such. _Don’t_ _drink it_. It’s for you to apply over your skin; it’s _not_ to be ingested. I’m going to bed. Good night.”

She shut the door in his face.

Zoro went to his room, muttering all the way about annoying personalities. He set Shusui down by the door, next to Sandai Kitetsu. He couldn’t wait until Mihawk returned Wado Ichimonji. He’d feel a lot better when it was back in his possession.

He couldn’t be bothered to turn on the ceiling lamps, so he merely flicked the switch on the tall standing lamp in a corner. Then he dropped into a chair, took off his shirt and proceeded to rub the ointment on the bruised patch, which was larger than he’d imagined it to be. It really did hurt. Damn Hawkeye.

He leaned back and took deep breaths. The ointment did help. It produced a slight cooling effect, which reduced the pain a little. The next day’s training would really not be fun. If he was lucky, Mihawk would decide to take off somewhere by himself as he occasionally did, and let him rest for the day. But then, what was life without challenges? Pushing one’s limits was good.

_Ah. Should’ve brought that bottle of wine with me._

He could get up and retrieve it from the dining hall, but… At that moment he didn’t feel like getting up. The exertion of the day was finally catching up to him.

He was almost asleep in his chair when several taps on his door startled him into full wakefulness.

“Who’s there?” he snapped.

Perona stepped into the room, first aid kit in one hand. She wore a dressing gown tied with a fussy bow at her waist. And her hair was still loose. The sight was… Disconcerting.

“I didn’t say you could come in,” Zoro said, irritated.

“Should have locked your door then. Not that a door could stop me from coming in one way or another, if you think about it.” She walked over to him and set the first aid kit on the table. She pointed to the bottle. “Did it help?”

He nodded, wondering why she’d shown up all of a sudden. Hadn’t she been about to go to bed?

“Are you _sure_ he didn’t break anything?”

“I think I know when I have broken bones.”

 “You don’t. You’ve got some strange thing in your head where you pretend every injury is the same minor bruise or scratch unless you actually see physical proof of it.”

“Broken bones are pretty obvious!”

“They are to most normal people. You’re not normal.”

Perona looked thoughtfully at the bruise. “Pretty big bruise there.” She took out a cold compress pouch. “I’ll be right back. Just need to put some ice and cold water into this. Get a small towel or something in the meantime. And why don’t you turn on more lights? It’s so dark in here.”

When she’d gone, he got up – slowly, so as not to aggravate the ache in his side – and opened several drawers before discovering a towel. It was a large bath towel but he didn’t care. He tossed it onto the table and sat down again. He didn’t bother with the lights. He was going to bed soon anyway. One lamp would do. The curtains were open anyway, and there was some moonlight coming in through the window.

Perona returned with the cold compress on a tray with a flask of water, a cup, and biscuits. Zoro realised suddenly that he was kind of hungry.

She looked around, sighed at the dim lighting but let it be. Seeing the towel he had chosen, she narrowed her eyes. “I said a ‘small towel’, not a bath towel. Oh, whatever. Wrap that around yourself or something. We’re going to put the compress on the bruise, but best to have a layer of something in between.”

“Weren’t you going to sleep?” he asked, picking up the towel. He held it against his side and Perona pressed the cold compress over it.

“Here – hold it up yourself,” she said. She removed her hand as he took over. “I _was_ going to sleep, yes. But then it occurred to me that you wouldn’t think to use a cold compress too. You can be rather hopeless at taking care of yourself.” Perona looked pointedly at the shirt he’d tossed onto the floor earlier. “That’s one example right there.”

She was giving him a severe look but Zoro thought it was rather undermined by the distracting mass of pink hair. He was having contradicting feelings of both liking and disliking her hair that way. He blamed the vacillating emotions on tiredness after a long day of training with Mihawk.

“You were obviously crying out for help despite that stoic face of yours,” continued Perona. “Otherwise why did you come all the way upstairs? Like I said, bruises don’t really need particular treatment. If you were truly convinced that Mihawk had only given you a bruise, you wouldn’t have bothered to do that.”

There was that question again. He didn’t like that question.

Perona pushed the tray towards him. “Knowing you, you’re probably hungry. Eat.”

He took a biscuit, expecting her to leave then. But she didn’t. He looked at her. “Why are you still here?”

She drew up another chair and sat down. “Can’t leave that cold compress on too long and if I’m not here to remind you, you’re liable to leave it there the whole night.”

“Fine.” He helped himself to more biscuits. Then he remembered something – the white shape that had floated over the wall. “Hey, was one of your ghosts out there just now?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that they’re called _hollows_ , not ghosts? And out where?”

“Out over the castle walls. I thought I saw one going off there.” He waved a hand vaguely to the left.

“I’m sure you’re pointing in the wrong direction, given your magnificent talent in that department.”

He gave her a dirty look. She returned it with a saccharine smile.

“I didn’t send any hollow out,” she said at last. “You must have imagined it. Or maybe you mistook a low-hanging cloud or something for it.”

Now that she’d mentioned it, Zoro had to admit that it was possible he could’ve seen a particularly thick patch of fog and assumed it was one of her ghostly pets. He must be going mad if he was beginning to imagine things like that…

As if on cue, one popped into existence and hooted in his face. He growled in annoyance, flapping his free hand at it. His hand simply passed through it and it stayed there, grinning at him.

“That,” said Perona, “is a hollow.”

“I _know_.”

“Just making sure.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Perona chuckled. The hollow floated across to her and circled her head. She looked at it affectionately.

“Anyone would think you like those things,” muttered Zoro.

“Well, of course I do! They’re practically a part of me.” Another one appeared and joined the first in doing a ghostly jig on the ceiling. Perona watched them for a while with a little smile on her face.

Zoro likewise observed the hollows, but soon his gaze involuntarily moved to their mistress. The impression he’d had upon first seeing her with her hair down hadn’t changed. She definitely looked much more womanly this way.

He felt his cheeks flush and he hurriedly pressed the cold compress to his face.

“ _What_ are you doing?”

He cursed his luck. That _would_ be the exact moment Perona chose to look away from her hollows and back at him. He had to look stupid with the compress covering his face.

“I wanted to know what it felt like,” he said, unable to come up with a better excuse. At least he wouldn’t be looking red anymore – or if he still was, he could blame it on the cold compress. He removed it from his face and replaced it at the bruised spot.

Perona raised her eyebrows. “Okay.”

She clearly didn’t quite believe him but he thought it wiser not to say so or to defend himself further.

“How’s the bruise feeling?” she asked.

“Cold.”

“I shall take it to mean that it feels better.”

The hollows drifted around her, hooting softly. One blew a raspberry at Zoro. He clenched a fist and muttered under his breath. Perona smiled and dismissed both hollows with a slight wave of her fingers.

He had been wondering for some time about that ability of hers. He asked, “Can you feel them? Your ghosts?”

“My _hollows_! They’re called _hollows_.”

“Okay, okay! Your _hollows_. Can you feel them?”

“I can feel them. Or not feel them. That is, I stop feeling the connection and I know that they’ve disappeared.”

“Huh.”

“I guess it’s a bit like… A light switch? I know when they’re there, and I know when they’re not.”

“You had this Devil Fruit a long time already?”

“Hmm.” Perona closed her eyes, as if trying to recall. “About ten years… Maybe a bit longer? Moriah-sama gave it to me.”

“How’d he know you liked ghosts?”

“He didn’t. I didn’t always like ghosts. I guess it just grew on me? I don’t remember how he got it in the first place, but he just thought it would suit Thriller Bark and gave it to me. Moriah-sama was good to me. I miss him sometimes.” She sighed.

“ _Why_?” Zoro couldn’t imagine missing that weirdo.

“Hey, he may have been your enemy, but Moriah-sama was almost like a father to me in some ways! He didn’t give Devil Fruits to just anyone on his crew, you know. But, ugh, that fruit tasted horrible.” She made a face. “I’d probably feel lost without this ability now. My hollows are such darlings – how could I not like them?”

Zoro could think of better, more accurate descriptions for them than “darling”. He shifted in his seat and adjusted the position of the cold compress. It certainly did hurt much less now; there was only stiffness. He took another biscuit and popped it into his mouth.

Perona broke the silence after a minute. “I have a question.”

“What?”

“Why are you putting yourself through this?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Part of it is for your captain and crew, sure. I know that. But there’s something else – why are you trying this hard?”

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the exhaustion combined with the dull ache of the bruise and the taste of the biscuits. Maybe it was that he no longer considered her an enemy or a threat. Maybe… Well, whatever it was, he found himself telling her about the one thing he rarely mentioned to anyone else – Kuina.

He told her everything about the dojo and about Kuina.

“We made a promise,” he explained. “We swore that one of us would become the greatest swordsman in the world someday.”

“What happened then?”

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “She died.”

“What??”

“She fell down some stairs and died.”

If his eyes had been open, he would have seen the horror on Perona’s face. But his eyes were closed, so he didn’t. He merely carried on with his story.

Kuina had died. Zoro, young as he was at the time, took upon himself the burden of protecting and carrying out the promise. Wado Ichimonji was a representation of that promise. He hadn’t been sure if Kuina’s father would give it to him, but he had and in receiving Kuina’s sword, Zoro had felt like it truly was on him now to fulfil their vow.

He would never – could never – forget it. It existed at the back of his mind at all times. Even if he wanted to forget it, Tashigi’s existence pretty much ensured that he wouldn’t.

“She looks almost exactly like Kuina. It’s freaky.”

There was a pause before Perona said, “That’s the Smoker guy’s lieutenant or something, right?”

“Yeah.” Zoro opened his eyes. “Anyway, there. That’s the answer to your question.” He removed the compress from his side. “This isn’t cold anymore,” he said blandly.

“Did you expect it to stay cold forever?” She rolled her eyes and reached out to take it. “Give it here.”

He handed it to her and straightened up in his chair, wincing only slightly as he did. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and gazed at the opposite wall. There were some slight rustling sounds as Perona returned the cold compress to the first aid kit.

The memory of Kuina on the night they made their promise lingered in his mind. She would have been strong – he was sure of it. If only she hadn’t died…

“I _will_ defeat him,” said Zoro, more to himself than to Perona. _And I_ will _become the greatest swordsman in the world._

There was a click that told him Perona had closed the kit. Then several seconds of silence passed.

“You know,” said Perona, “I think you just might.”

That surprised him right out of his Kuina reverie. He turned to look at her.

She had risen from her seat, clearly about to leave. And she was standing in a spot that exactly allowed for the moonlight from the window to frame her in a pale grey light. The mental image of Kuina faded and he was struck by a funny, constricted feeling inside.

Zoro hurriedly turned away, confused by the sensation that had surfaced in that moment. He’d seen plenty of other attractive women in his life – heck, he’d lived on a ship in the company of Nico Robin – but this felt… Different? No, it probably wasn’t. He’d simply never seen her look like that before. That was it. It was the hair. The hair and the moonlight. He was in shock from seeing her look like that and from saying something that sounded so sincere. He was tired too. Very tired. Definitely time to sleep.

… … …

Later, lying in her bed and staring at the sliver of the moon outside her window, Perona reflected on everything that Zoro had said. She hadn’t expected a detailed answer from him. In fact, she had hardly expected a serious answer at all, let alone a detailed one. But he had surprised her.

And she had surprised herself as well. Her first instinct had been to tease him and say it’d take him a thousand years to beat Mihawk, but on seeing the gravity in his face, something had held the teasing mockery back. It had instead been replaced with the frank opinion that yes, she thought he could do it. Zoro was an idiot but… But he had drive, and she could respect that. And now that she knew the reason for his drive, it seemed even more likely that he could actually eventually learn to defeat Mihawk.

Well, the whole story certainly explained his preference for that particular sword, as well as his odd fixation on that article about Vice-Admiral Smoker. It wasn’t so much about Smoker as it was about Tashigi. Tashigi, who looked like Kuina, who obsessed over swords like Kuina, and who was a walking, talking reminder of Kuina. Perona didn’t know if she would get along with this Tashigi person, if they ever met.

She had gotten the impression that he hardly ever spoke of this. Did Mihawk know? She wasn’t sure. Perhaps he didn’t, since he was keeping that Wado Ichimonji sword as punishment. Or maybe he did know and he chose to keep that sword _because_ it would be a strong punishment for Zoro.

… … …

Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #982:

> _Ghost Girl suggested today that I return the sword to Roronoa before the week is up. She seemed to think it important that he has it with him, even if he doesn’t use it. How does she know and_ what _does she know? I sense intrigue._


	9. Chapter 9

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #960** :

 _I cannot fathom why the Ghost Girl bothers to come out and watch Roronoa’s training sessions. She doesn’t watch the whole time, but the fact that she bothers to watch at all puzzles me. Then again, she appears to derive a lot of enjoyment from poking fun at him while he trains. I suppose it_ is _an amusing sight. Roronoa is a long way from being able to defeat me._

… … …

Perona had, from the start, found it mildly interesting to observe Zoro’s training. She never stayed for long; only watching for fifteen minutes to half an hour at a time before she got bored and drifted back to the castle.

It was fun to laugh at Zoro’s mishaps, offer ironic suggestions, or drop pithy one-liners that annoyed him. Over time, these were now reduced to just the ironic suggestions and pithy one-liners. She still laughed at his mishaps, but far less frequently. Those had been funny at first because the whole thing looked so lopsided – Mihawk often dispatched Zoro without even batting an eyelid. Then slowly, gradually, the humorous mishaps lost the comic factor and grew more serious as Zoro improved.

Though Mihawk still beat him easily, Perona felt the difference. At the beginning, he was all frustration and blind determination; there was a rawness to his fighting style that spoke of a great deal of physical power and very little – if any – finesse. When he got frustrated, he would resort to brute-force attacking methods that Mihawk would defeat easily. (Mihawk harped a lot about finesse and elegance and conservation of energy.) Now, half a year into the training, some of that had been tempered. Zoro still got frustrated, and there still was a certain raw feeling to his moves. But he lasted longer in training fights, made slightly smarter choices, held his own ground better.

It did make the training more interesting to watch.

There was also the added benefit of it being just pleasing to the eye. 

Perona would have died rather than admit it to anyone, but watching the training sessions could be rewarding (at least before boredom overcame her) because Roronoa Zoro was a rather fine-looking male specimen. A fine-looking male specimen who was at his best when he was fighting. It put a spark of something into him – made him seem more vibrant and alive. Also, he liked wearing tight-fitting white T-shirts that really showed off his physique.

His body wasn’t anything new to her, really. She’d seen enough of it when she had to patch him up after Kuma delivered him to her doorstep. But her main thoughts then had been: _I hope he doesn’t wake up before I’m done with the bandages. He’ll probably kill me immediately._ Once they’d reached much more amicable terms, she found that she was at leisure to admire how his T-shirts moulded to his figure. Thriller Bark had had spectacular zombies, but she had not had much exposure to well-built, normal (or relatively normal) men. With some people, such an outfit might have been chosen on purpose. But she didn’t think Zoro was the type to show off anything but his fighting skills. That made it easier to appreciate. If he had been strutting about like a peacock she would not have been quite as keen to treat him as eye candy.

Now that she knew the driving force behind his desire to become the best, everything about the training sessions carried more significance. When he failed to best his teacher and got annoyed, it wasn’t merely about not being good enough yet. It was that he _needed_ to succeed for a higher purpose than mere ego. The way he clung to that promise was admirable. But the whole Kuina thing was feeling more and more like a thorn in her side – more so because there existed a Kuina lookalike in the form of a Marine. It shouldn’t bother her, really…

The little ghost in her head whispered that there was good reason for it.

 _Shut up, you_. _I don’t want to think about nonsense like that._

“What’s wrong with you today?” Mihawk’s voice startled her out of her thoughts.

“Huh? Nothing’s wrong. What makes you think that?”

“You sit there, unmoving, staring blankly ahead. Usually when you get bored you go scurrying off to the castle.”

“I was just thinking about dinner,” she lied.

“Hmm.” He turned to look at Zoro, who was hauling a huge rock out of the woods. “Make haste, Roronoa. You took so long to get the rock that Ghost Girl here started daydreaming about tonight’s menu. I’m feeling twinges of tedium as well.”

Zoro wiped sweat off his brow and snarled, “I’m not entertainment!”

“Are you sure?” said Mihawk.

Perona bit back a laugh.

Zoro glowered at them both as he set the rock in a spot that Mihawk chose. He muttered something about it being too hot and proceeded to take off his shirt. Perona forgot about Kuina for a while.

… … …

Kuraigana was prone to heavy rain, and on some days the rain came down so hard that the raindrops felt like little blunt needles stabbing the skin. On such days, Zoro was often confined to doing his strength and stamina training indoors (“No sword training indoors. I do not wish to run the risk of the castle getting cut in half,” Mihawk had said). It was on one of these days that, after running up and down the stairs a hundred times, he discovered the Most Popular Warlord Rankings.

He had gone into the dining hall in search of liquid refreshment. Having discovered and emptied a bottle of water and a bottle of beer, his eye fell upon the newspaper that Mihawk – or Perona – had left on the table. A brilliant blue headline in the top left corner caught his eye. It read:

_Which Warlord is the Best? See our feature article inside!_

That seemed like a good distraction. He sat down and turned the pages until he found the article.

 

> **_COO NEWS READERS RANK THE WARLORDS_ **
> 
> _We asked you who your favourite warlords are and you answered! So here are the results of our poll in ascending order:_
> 
> **_#8 – Gekko Moriah (1412 votes)_ **
> 
> _It is perhaps not surprising that Gekko Moriah came in last. Poor Moriah lost his warlord status after the chaos at Marineford. However even before that, his strangeness and his ghoulish Thriller Bark struck fear but no admiration in few others._
> 
> _Voter comments:_
> 
> _“He can steal shadows! If that’s not cool then I don’t know what is.”_
> 
> _“Moriah’s creeeepy.”_
> 
> _“He’s a Warlord?”_
> 
>  
> 
> **_#7 – Marshall D. Teach, a.k.a. Blackbeard (1604 votes)_ **
> 
> _Blackbeard burst onto the scene when he broke away from Whitebeard, and his confrontation with Portgas D. Ace eventually led to the incident at Marineford. Some applaud him for the capture of Gol D. Roger’s son. Others may find his cunning nature appealing, but most people think him less than appealing._
> 
> _Voter comments:_
> 
> _“ZEHAhaha! Blackbeard has an awesome laugh!”_
> 
> _“He fought and defeated Firefist Ace! That means he’s really strong.”_
> 
> _“He’s kinda ugly.”_
> 
> _“I loved Ace. I hate Blackbeard.”_
> 
> **_#6 – Crocodile (2600 votes)_ **
> 
> _For a disgraced Warlord, Crocodile sure did rack up a good number of votes! He may have been imprisoned, but rumour has it that there was a massive prison break at Impel Down and Crocodile was among the escapees. Crocodile always did have his fans, however. He came in second when we last ran our Warlords Popularity Poll five years ago!_
> 
> _Voter comments:_
> 
> _“Crocodile has style~ Croco-style!”_
> 
> _“He gets my vote for having savvy business sense. I’ve been to Alabasta, and Rain Dinners was a really good casino.”_
> 
> _“He looks scary.”_

Zoro wished they’d skipped the voter comments or both the voter comments and the descriptions. He wasn’t _that_ interested in it. So he merely skimmed the other ranks, without bothering about the comments. Where was Mihawk in all this? That was what he wanted to know.

He flipped the pages until the found Mihawk’s picture. And he couldn’t believe it.

In first place, with a whopping 10,350 votes (almost two thousand more votes than the runner-up), was Dracule Mihawk.

 

> _He’s the Greatest Swordsman in the World, and now he can also call himself the most popular Warlord. The readers have spoken, and Dracule Mihawk is_ the _Warlord. He’s impressive and imposing, with a sort of moody attractiveness and a most impressive skill set. Admired by the common folk, and avoided by pirates, Mihawk is the epitome of the Warlords. If scaring other pirates away isn’t what the_ Ouka Shichibukai _do, then what use are they? Mihawk-sama, for your broody charm, your remarkable skill with the sword, and your perfect encapsulation of the title “Warlord of the_ Ouka Shichibukai _”, we crown you “Mr. Seven Warlords”! (Yes, we know there are more – or fewer – than seven of them now, depending on how you look at it, but “Mr. Seven Warlords” works better.)_

Zoro’s facial muscles twitched. _The_ Warlord? The epitome of the Warlords? _Mr. Seven Warlords??_ What sort of stupidity was this?

 

> _Voter comments:_
> 
> _“Mihawk is_ so _amazing! I want to be his apprentice someday – if he takes apprentices.”_
> 
> _“Dracule Mihawk is so cool!”_
> 
> _“He’s the most handsome Warlord. Seriously, have you looked at the rest of them? (Apart from Boa Hancock, that is.)”_
> 
> _“He doesn’t say much, does he? But that just adds to his mystique~”_

Zoro thought he was going to be sick.

 

> _“I’m not sure I understand why people like him so much.”_

He nodded emphatically. One sane comment in that overflowing sea of sickening praise.

“Admiring my photograph, Roronoa?”

Zoro jumped at Mihawk’s sudden appearance. He spluttered, “ _Admiring_ it? No way am I admiring that ridiculous thing.” He pointed at the photograph, which featured a stern-faced, topless Mihawk holding his sword, Yoru.

“Does it make you feel self-conscious?” asked Mihawk, calmly taking a seat and pouring himself a glass of wine. “Or are you envious?”

“What? _No_. It’s – it’s embarrassing that I should be training under a guy who’d willingly be photographed like _that_ for an article like _this_!”

“At least I am popular, Roronoa. I am the World’s Greatest Swordsman _and_ ‘Mr. Seven Warlords’. What are you?” Mihawk looked pointedly at Zoro.

“I… I’m a _Supernova_!” 

“Oh,” said Perona, and Zoro jumped again. “There was –”

Zoro interrupted her, saying, “When did _you_ get here?”

“When you were saying something about being embarrassed. Anyway, there was a Supernova popularity poll last month. You came in tenth.”

Zoro’s face clouded over immediately and he thought he felt several blood vessels burst in his forehead. “TENTH? Out of how many??”

“Don’t you even know how many Supernovas there are?”  Perona rolled her eyes.

“There are eleven, Roronoa,” said Mihawk. He poured out another glass of wine and offered it to Perona.

“Who was first?” demanded Zoro. “And second? And all the rest?”

Perona accepted the wine from Mihawk. “I think first was Jewelry Bonney. Then, hmm… Eustass Kidd.” She held up the fingers of her free hand as she continued with the list. “No, wait. Jewelry Bonney, then X Drake. And _then_ Eustass Kidd. Fourth, Trafalgar Law. Followed by your captain, Straw Hat Luffy.” Having reached five, she proceeded to close her fingers one by one in reverse order. “Killer, Basil Hawkins, Urouge.  That’s eight. Scratchmen Apoo, you, and then Capone ‘Gang’ Bege.”

“What sort of idiots voted in this poll?” exclaimed Zoro.

“People with sense,” said Perona. “Except for those who picked Killer over Hawkins. Killer’s just Kidd’s first mate, whereas Basil Hawkins is a captain in his own right! What’s a first mate to a captain?”

“Hey!” interjected Zoro, but Perona either didn’t notice or didn’t care and went on talking.

“Killer’s only signature is that stupid mask. Who knows what he looks like under it? He could look like the Pirate Prince or he could look like… Blackbeard.” Perona shuddered. “Hawkins, on the other hand… He has that chilling air of mystery about him that’s so appealing. And he has that interesting Devil Fruit too! He can predict the future or something like that. _So_ cool.”

“Until he falls into the sea,” muttered Zoro.

“Jealous, Roronoa?”

Zoro glared at Mihawk, who was placidly staring at him over his wineglass. “ _No_! Why do you keep assuming I’m jealous?” Then he turned to Perona, saying, “Where’s that stupid article? I want to see it! That can’t be right.”

Perona went over to the corner where they usually left the more recent issues of the Coo News, looked through the stack and took out the relevant issue. She turned the pages until she found the article and handed the newspaper to him. He read the rankings with increasing annoyance.

  1. _Jewelry “Big Eater” Bonney – 5770 votes_
  2. _X Drake, “The Red Flag” – 5481 votes_
  3. _Eustass “Captain” Kidd – 5001 votes_
  4. _Trafalgar Law, “The Surgeon of Death” – 4934_
  5. _Monkey D. Luffy, “Straw Hat” – 4556_
  6. _Killer, “Murder Machine” – 3920_
  7. _Basil Hawkins, “The Magician” – 3444_
  8. _Urouge, “The Mad Monk” – 3225_
  9. _Scratchmen “Roar of the Seas” Apoo – 1800_
  10. _Roronoa Zoro, “The Pirate Hunter” – 1799_
  11. _Capone “Gang” Bege – 1303_



What – how – why the hell was he so low in the rankings? He had a reputation, damn it! He was the Pirate Hunter, Roronoa Zoro! People were deathly afraid of him! And he wasn’t that bad-looking either. So how had he ended up in tenth place?! He turned his attention to the voter comments for himself.

 

> _“His three-sword style is pretty darn cool!”_

He liked this person.

 

> _“What’s so special about the stupid three swords thing?”_

He didn’t like this one.

 

> _“His hair looks like moss.”_

Had this person been talking to the Curlybrow?! Or was it the stupid ero-cook himself? He’d kill him when he next saw him.

Next, Zoro took a closer look at the accompanying pictures, most of which looked like they were lifted from the wanted posters.

Jewelry Bonney. Oh, the girl with the pink hair and the crazy lipstick.

“ _She’s_ a Supernova??” he exclaimed.

Perona said, “Jewelry Bonney? Do you know her or something?”

“Kind of…” He had a memory of some weird kid-who-wasn’t-a-kid flinging herself at him just before he attacked the Celestial Dragon guy and pretending to cry over his supposedly dead body. _Come to think of it, that wasn’t average human speed… And how did she change from a kid to an adult? She must have some sort of Devil Fruit._

Besides Luffy, he recognised Kidd and Law and Killer, but none of the rest.  Looking at the picture of Scratchmen Apoo _really_ ticked him off though.

“I lost by ONE VOTE to _that_ ass?!”

“Apoo collected quite a number of fans after he defeated several popular deejays in the underground club scene,” said Perona. “It’s written right there. And it’s not all about looks, you know. Otherwise Hawkins would have ranked higher than Killer.”

Zoro’s fingers curled in, crumpling the newspaper at the sides. Why was Perona so hung up on Hawkins? The guy looked like a creepy scarecrow! 

… … …

Perona thought that the weather was most unenviable. If she had been a normal human, she absolutely would not have bothered watching any of the training sessions since it would have meant going out in that humid weather and getting unnecessarily dirty just tramping across the muddy ground. But she was not entirely normal – she had a Devil Fruit power – and one that was extremely convenient for going places without needing to subject herself to uncomfortable weather. She watched Zoro and Mihawk from where her astral form perched atop a rock, with two hollows floating around her. ~~~~

Zoro had redoubled his training efforts in the last few of days. She wondered if it had anything to do with the Coo News polls. It was possible. He insisted that he didn’t care, and that it was ridiculous that Mihawk was perfectly fine with something so “embarrassing”. But he had been grumpier than usual, spending even more time training or exercising. She had asked if he wanted to do another reading lesson, but he’d snapped a curt “no, I have no time for it” so she’d shrugged her shoulders and let it go.

It was at times like that that Perona really wished she had a female companion on the island. It would be much more fun if she had someone with whom she could sit and gossip (and complain) about Zoro and Mihawk. It would also be less boring around the castle, especially when the men were wrapped up in their sword stuff.

One hollow nuzzled her neck and smiled up at her. She petted its head. Well, her hollows were better than nothing, although talking to them wasn’t very satisfactory.

A ringing crash and a thud brought her attention back to the men. Zoro was panting and staring at his sword, which lay on the ground several metres away.

Mihawk gave it a brief glance then looked at her. “Get me some wine, Ghost Girl.”

“Not your servant!” she snapped.

“Get me some wine, please, Ghost Girl.”

Perona made a face and floated off, grumbling to herself. She particularly disliked this sort of request. It meant that she would have to come out of her ghostly state since she could not carry a bottle of wine through walls along with her. That in turn meant walking all the way and getting mud on her shoes. Ick.

Ten minutes later, she was back there again but with a bottle of wine and wineglasses.

“Thank you,” said Mihawk. Whatever his other faults, Mihawk at least knew how to say thank you. She appreciated that. If he’d been exactly like Zoro, she would’ve ditched them both at first opportunity.

She poured out three glasses of wine and handed each man one glass, taking the last herself.

Zoro downed his portion in moments and was holding his sword out at an angle, as if trying to catch a reflection or something in the blade.

“Using the sword as a mirror now?” asked Perona. “Wouldn’t have thought it of you.”

“Ha- _ha_. You think you’re so funny. I’m checking for cracks!” Zoro said.

Mihawk swirled the wine in his glass. “Has a sword of yours ever broken?”

“Well, yeah. _You_ broke two of mine!”

Perona did not find that very surprising. Mihawk could probably break swords just by looking at them if he wanted to.

“Those blades wouldn’t have broken had they been imbued with _haki_ ,” said Mihawk. “When every nick in your blade is a blemish on your pride, all swords can be Black Swords.”

Black sword? She wondered what that was. Was he referring to his giant black sword? Perhaps it was the class of sword.

“Until you master _haki_ , no alcohol for you.”

“ _What_?!” exclaimed Zoro.

Perona gasped. Stared. Then laughed.

She still found it somewhat funny the next day when Zoro was eyeing Mihawk’s drinks with envy at lunch and dinner and every spare minute in between. It was the longing stares that she found amusing; those were expressions she had never seen before on his face. To his credit, Zoro didn’t complain – much. He only went as far as the occasional gripe about it and longing stares in the direction of any alcoholic drink in his line of sight. She felt a little sorry for him. It was hard to be deprived of something one liked. But the teacher had issued a decree and the student had to follow it.

However, he pulled himself together several days into the alcohol ban and the longing stares were no more, although he had taken to standing on the ramparts for periods of meditation. Presumably that was his way of dealing with it.

 _Such a pity_ , she thought, as she drifted into the wine cellar, accompanied by her hollows. _Well, it was fun while it lasted_.

Perona inspected the bottles of wine, checking to see if there was still wine she could use for cooking. Mihawk had a well-stocked wine cellar but he had rather strict rules about what she could use for cooking and what she couldn’t. Some wines, according to him, were not to be wasted on food.

Having satisfied herself that yes, the appropriate wine was still available and she could get started on cooking lunch, she proceeded up towards the ceiling again, meaning to return later and get the wine she needed. But she stopped short as she reached the ceiling.

_If Zoro can’t have any alcohol, does that mean chicken with red wine sauce is off the menu? Hmmm._

As she pondered the matter, something caught her eye: a small dark-coloured rectangle lodged in between two bottles on one of the upper racks.

Could it be…?

Forgetting all about lunch, Perona darted over to look at it.

It could be, and it _was_ Mihawk’s diary! She’d thought she would never see it again! Oh, what a splendid chance!

Carefully, she withdrew the diary from between the bottles, noting exactly which ones they were. She stayed there, floating in the same spot so she wouldn’t forget. It would not do for Mihawk to find out that she’d read his diary again. She turned to the page where a bookmark lay. She made a mental note of the page in case she dislodged the bookmark somehow.

The marked pages contained three short entries. Clearly, they were the most recent ones he had written.

 

> _#982_
> 
> _Ghost Girl suggested today that I return the sword to Zoro before the week is up. She seemed to think it important that he has it with him, even if he doesn’t use it. How does she know and_ what _does she know? I sense intrigue._

Perona frowned. She moved on to the two earlier entries.

 

> _#981_
> 
> _Roronoa let his temper get the better of him today in training and he threw his sword at me. I think he was aiming for my face. But I caught it and he isn’t getting it back for a week._
> 
> _That’ll teach him to throw swords away in a rage._

Zoro had thrown Wado Ichimonji at Mihawk’s _face_? How silly. She shook her head. But he must have been feeling really frustrated that day. It was rather unlike him.

 

> _#980_
> 
> _I am beginning to come around to the idea that despite the squabbling, those two would make a good couple._ Akagami _once bragged that he’d be a good matchmaker. Wonder what he’d do with these two._

Perona almost dropped the diary. What? Who was Mihawk talking about? Surely not – not herself and Roronoa Zoro! She must have misread it.

She re-read it.  

“Despite the squabbling.” “Those two.” “A good couple.”

He had to be referring to them. It wouldn’t make sense otherwise. But it didn’t make sense that way either!

Or did it?

Suddenly, Perona didn’t feel like reading it anymore. She closed the diary, slid it back into place on the rack, then fled through the walls and ceilings to her bedroom.

The words in Mihawk’s diary gnawed at her. Despite the squabbling, those two would make a good couple. Despite the squabbling… A good couple. A good _couple_?!

He had to be imagining things. She and Zoro did _not_ make a good couple. She didn’t even – well, okay, she did think he was good-looking. That square jawline. Those intense eyes. That toned physique which looked really good in tight white T-shirts.

Perona – now back in her body – clutched a pillow to her chest. One hollow disappeared, and the other hovered beside her and looked at her curiously.

No. No, no, no. She thought Zoro was good-looking, and that was it. That’s not something on which to base suppositions of potential romantic relationships. Mihawk was dreaming.

Hiding under the blanket while still clutching the pillow made her feel only a tiny bit better. For a few moments.

Perona stared at the underside of the blanket. The only sound was that of her breathing and of the ticking of the clock on the opposite wall. The remaining hollow slipped through the blanket and huddled next to her face.

“You’re too close,” she muttered, waving it away. The hollow vanished.

Zoro was attractive, but he could hardly be said to be charming. He could be irritating, he was constantly getting lost, he was obsessed with swords, and he was _not_ cute. But… He had a roguish smile that made rare appearances, and a hearty laugh that she found likeable. He was tough and determined, and proud, but not so proud that he wouldn’t take lessons from Mihawk – or even from herself. He clearly wasn’t much of a reader, and his small efforts to learn to read kanji had impressed her. And…  And he trusted her?  Enough to tell her about Wado Ichimonji and Kuina, at least.

Still keeping the blanket over her, she flopped over onto her back and covered her face with the pillow she had been holding.

So she liked Roronoa Zoro. Liked him a little more than she should.

She should have recognised the signs earlier. Her being bothered by his remarks about her clothes and all should have been telling, and the way she found Tashigi and Kuina troubling should have been the biggest red flag of all.

Perona made frustrated noises into the pillow. She _had_ seen the red flags. She had just chosen to pretend she didn’t see them. Oh well. Maybe it would just be a passing fancy. She’d been stuck here too long with him, that’s all. It would go away. He was several years younger, anyway. He wouldn’t bother about someone older. But he did appear to have a good many associations with women who were older. Kuina had been older. Jewelry Bonney, whom he appeared to know somehow (and his vague references to her were suspicious in Perona’s eyes), was in her twenties too. There was that Tashigi – almost certainly older than Zoro. He had a thing for that Tashigi woman; she was sure of it. And she was nothing like Tashigi, as far as she could judge. So… So… This crush was useless. A dead end.

In that moment, Perona rather hated herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks around in trepidation*
> 
> I hope it gave you dear readers a good laugh! It was inspired by the One Piece Podcast's discussion on their favourite warlords - specifically when Stephen Paul started calling Mihawk "Mr Warlord" in the tone that people would use to say "Miss Universe." XD
> 
> It was loads of fun writing the middle part to this and discussing it with Namibean! I actually drafted the entire Warlord ranking article, but didn't think it necessary to include here. I did put it on Tumblr though, along with the rationale we worked out for the Supernova rankings. If you're interested...  
> The Warlord Popularity Poll - https://elenniel.tumblr.com/post/160698177097/the-warlord-popularity-poll  
> Notes on the Supernova Popularity Poll - https://elenniel.tumblr.com/post/160698684532/notes-on-the-supernova-popularity-poll


	10. Chapter 10

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #977** :

_Took them to Notson Ear yesterday. Roronoa demonstrated his inexperience in dealing with the opposite sex. I think he upset her by remarking on her “immature” hobbies. Apparently he did not know she is twenty-three. He thought she was eighteen. It was priceless._

_Then he proceeds to stare at her over dinner, unnerving her and forcing him to get defensive. Result: A spectacular demonstration of her negativity ghost-powers. Perona 1 Roronoa 0._

_I should take them to Notson Ear more often. It is entertaining._

… … …

The little port town Mihawk favoured for his supply runs on Notson Ear Island was the same as before. It hummed with a soft buzz of activity that seemed to permeate the streets of every small town Zoro had ever been to. It was different with large, bustling cities like Water 7. He preferred big cities. It was easier for him to go about unnoticed by the authorities in big cities. In small towns he was entirely too noticeable.

It wasn’t quite so bad in this one, though. The local law enforcement appeared to consist of two or three easy-going policemen, and the Marines had no base there. Perhaps the townsfolk had also become so accustomed to having a Warlord drop in every now and then that Roronoa Zoro – and he was certain that at least some of them were aware of his identity – was not cause for alarm. Or maybe it was because he came with Mihawk, and Mihawk’s presence reassured them.

Zoro didn’t know if the staff at the largest clothing store in town knew of him, but the sight of him laden with an armful of clothes courtesy of Perona was definitely making them giggle behind the racks and the counters. He took a deep breath and willed himself to say nothing.

Perona was busily picking out new things for him to try on. She had insisted on new T-shirts, new pants, maybe a jacket or something. All he wanted was a new haramaki.

He had tried to argue against all the other new clothes but Perona had rejected his argument.

“All that training you do is bad for your clothes!” she had said. “You’ve torn so many pieces, and I refuse to attempt to mend all of them. Mihawk gave you a clothing budget, and we’re going to use it. I’m not your personal seamstress.”

Zoro gave in there, but he was adamant about not wanting anything in colours other than white, black, or green. Perona had rolled her eyes at his colour choices.

A saleswoman came up to them and – to Zoro’s intense annoyance – pointed them towards the section displaying men’s formal suits.

“I think sir would look good in the one on the mannequin there,” said the girl to Perona.

Why was she talking to Perona and not to him? Surely he was the one she should be addressing, given that they were looking for _his_ clothes. Women.

“You may be right,” Perona said, giving the dark grey suit a contemplative look. “Zoro! You’re going to try that on.”

“Why should I? Who made you king?” demanded Zoro.

“No one,” she replied, walking with the saleswoman to where the suits were hanging. “But” – she smirked at him – “I _am_ the Ghost _Princess_. That makes me higher-ranked than you. So there.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned her attention back to the suits.

Zoro wanted to throw all the clothes on the floor and walk out. What the hell? She wasn’t even a real princess – her title was just a result of her Devil Fruit! So ridiculous.

But… That sudden, playful smirk had been pretty hot.

That too was ridiculous. Although he had, to an extent, become accustomed to the idea that he thought Perona an attractive woman, he was _not_ accustomed to how randomly the idea would assail him. He could go a whole day without thinking it and then she’d do something – it could be as minor as a furrowed brow while reading – that triggered the thought in his brain. It was strange.

Perona divested him of the other pieces of clothing he had been holding and dropped the various pieces of attire that made up a suit into his hands.

“Go put that on. You _do_ know how to put on a suit, right?”

“Yes, yes, I know!”

“Really?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Prove it.” She pointed to the dressing room.

Zoro stomped into it. Of course he knew how to put on a suit! He had had to learn once, years ago, when his mark had been a pirate with a taste for upper-class life. To track the man down and corner him meant sneaking his way into one of the upscale parties he frequented. And that had meant needing to put on a suit. So he had learnt what that entailed, and now that memory came back to him automatically as he shrugged on the white dress shirt and buttoned it.

He felt silly and restricted in suits. Suits were the domain of that curlybrow idiot, not his. He grimaced and adjusted the bowtie. (Hey, look at that – he still remembered how to do that!) Sighing in resignation and putting a scowl on his face, he opened the door and stepped out.

“There. See?”

The reaction he got from Perona was definitely gratifying. Astonishment, and unwilling admiration. Now it was his turn to smirk.

“Told you I know how to put on a suit,” he said. Then he added quickly, “But I’m _not_ buying this! I don’t have any use for it.”

… … …

Perona wasn’t sure whether or not she regretted making him try on the suit. She’d done it at first out of a mischievous inclination to put him in something she knew he probably wouldn’t like – possibly might not even know how to put on – and out of a desire to see how Roronoa Zoro might look if he cleaned himself up a bit.

It turned out that Zoro didn’t like suits but he _did_ know how to put them on (even including a bowtie!) and he looked really good in one. The shirt had been a bit too small and the coat a little too large, but… He had looked good. Very good. He knew it too! He looked _so_ smug. She shouldn’t have made him try it on.

She wanted to smack the smugness off his face yet also run her hands over the sleeves of the coat and feel how those biceps of his felt underneath the smooth material…

  1. _Stop it right now!_



Taking a quick deep breath, she managed to produce some semblance of normality and rolled her eyes at his insistence on not buying the suit.

“I’m not making you buy it,” she said. “I just said to _try_ it. Here, go see if these other clothes fit and decide which you want. ” She shoved the other clothes at him and shooed him back into the changing room.

“Why are there more clothes than before??”

“They multiplied by themselves,” Perona said. “ _Obviously_ , I picked out some other pieces for you to try!”

He grumbled incoherently from within the changing room.

“The suit looked good on him, didn’t it, miss?” asked the saleswoman.

“Uh, I suppose so? He – he’s not really one for suits though.” _Besides, his swords would look awkward dangling from his belt under the dress coat._

“Ah, what a pity. But perhaps someday he’ll need one. We’d be most happy to accommodate you. We can have suits customised and –”

“Yes, uh, well…” Perona glanced at the main entrance. She didn’t want to listen to the woman’s suggestions on Zoro in a suit. Thinking about Zoro in a suit was not conducive to a more neutral stance on their relationship. “Excuse me. I need to get something from the shop across the street.”

She started towards the door, then turned and went towards the changing room.

“Zoro!” she called.

“What?” came his muffled voice. It sounded like he was either putting on or taking off a shirt.

“I’m going to the opposite store. When you’re done trying on clothes, let me know so I can come back and pay!” She thought for a second and said, “I’ll get the salesgirl to direct you to the store. Okay?”

“Yeah, whatever!”

She looked at the saleswoman. “When he’s done, could you just point him in the direction of the store so he can come get me?”

The woman looked puzzled. “But it’s just across the street…”

“He’ll need directions. Trust me.”

The shop across the street was a hat shop. Perona busied herself with trying on different hats. The little crown she wore so often was getting rather worn. It was high time she got herself some new hair accessories. She took up a white sun hat with pink flowers and a green ribbon. She tried to put it on, but her usual hairstyle got in the way. So she removed her hair ties, shook out her hair and placed the hat on her head.

_Oh, this is cute!_

She tilted the hat at an angle and smiled at her reflection. It was certainly not a “childish” hat. It was quite ladylike, in fact, when coupled with the way her hair looked when it was hanging loose down over her shoulders.  

Another hat – it looked like a puffy black top hat – caught her eye. She took off the sun hat and reached for the black one. She was arranging it to the best effect on her head when she heard a gentle cough behind her.

Someone said, “Excuse me?”

She turned around.

… … …

Zoro emerged from the changing room with a sigh of relief. He held some of the clothes in his arms, and left the others on the floor of the dressing room.

To the saleswoman he said, “I don’t want those.” He jerked his head in the direction of the clothes left on the floor.

The saleswoman looked at the mess and gave him a strained smile. “Of course, sir. Let me take the others to the cashier for you.”

He handed over the chosen clothes to her, saying, “You’re supposed to show me where Perona went.”

“Yes. This way, please.”

The woman led him to the front door and gestured (as best as she could while holding a pile of clothes) to the shop opposite. “She went into that store, sir. The hat shop.”

Zoro crossed the street and strode into the store. He instantly felt out of place amongst the plethora of hats – mostly ladies’ hats. He looked around, trying to locate the familiar pink hair. But she didn’t seem to be there. 

That was strange. Where was she?

It was then that he became aware of a tension in the air.

 _Something’s wrong here_.

He fixed his gaze on the plump middle-aged man behind the counter. “Hey, you! Was there a girl – a woman here with pink hair?” 

The man fidgeted and stammered something.

“What? I can’t hear what you’re saying. Was she here? She told me to meet her here.”

The man cleared his throat and seemed to calm down a little. “Ye-yes, there was a lady like that here. About thirty minutes ago.”

“Thirty minutes ago? Where did she go?”

“Uhm, out the back door.”

“The _back door_?” Zoro went right up to him. He narrowed his eyes at the poor cashier and said, “Something happened. What?”

“The – the Marines, sir. There was a – an officer and she – uhm, she – well, she arrested the young lady. Something about a pirate? And she took her out through the back door. To avoi – avoid creating a fuss out front, she said.”

Horror gripped Zoro. Almost by instinct, his hand darted to his swords.

“Tell me where they went! _Now_!”

The plump man looked even more scared, but he nodded and showed Zoro to the back of the store. He opened the back door and pointed down the alley. “They went that way. All the way down to the end and – and to the left. I think th-they probably went to the police station?”

Zoro took off running. A million curses went through his head as he ran. Marines on Notson Ear? But Mihawk said that they were hardly ever there!  And they’d arrested Perona! Of all the things to happen!

He nearly stepped on a cat as he reached the end of the alleyway. The cat yowled at him, but he barely heard it.

… … …

The plump man, who had remained at the back door watching Zoro’s frenzied run, gaped. Why had the crazy swordsman gone right instead of left?


	11. Chapter 11

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #972** :

_Needed something from the kitchen and sent Roronoa to get it. He got lost. I found him up in the attic. How did he ever get the reputation of being a fearsome bounty hunter? I simply cannot believe this man ever managed to track anyone down in the first place. Maybe he just got lucky every single time._

… … …

Zoro stopped, panting for breath. He looked around. All around him were trees, trees, and more trees.

_Why am I in the middle of the forest??_

He was lost. How long had he been running? He had no idea. But the sun wasn’t setting yet so it couldn’t have been that long. When he was last with Perona in the clothing store it had been just around one in the afternoon.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. Marines had turned up, arrested Perona, and taken her off somewhere. He had all three swords with him but what good were weapons when he couldn’t find the Marines or Perona? Damn it all to hell!

… … …

The sight of the blonde woman in the Marine uniform had startled Perona. But she barely had time to do more than gasp before a handcuff clicked into place on her right wrist. It felt like all the energy had drained out of her instantly, and she barely managed to stay upright.

Those had to be _kairouseki_ cuffs. No normal handcuffs would’ve produced such an effect on her. She felt sluggish and tired, and couldn’t call up any of her hollows, much less project herself out of her body. Astral projection wouldn’t have been much use if her body still lay there in front of the Marine though.

“Ghost Princess Perona,” said the officer, “you’re under arrest.”

Perona tried to protest. “You can’t – I’m part of Moriah-sama’s crew!”

“Gekko Moriah has been stripped of his status and therefore all his privileges – and his crew’s privileges – have been revoked. You’re a wanted criminal with no immunity anymore. You’re coming with me.”

The cuffs were so effective that she could hardly move. The Marine officer had to prop her up with one arm in order to march her down the alleys until they reached the station.

Upon reaching the police station, the Marine had gotten into a discussion with the local police officer, who looked curiously at Perona. When Perona felt the woman loosen her hold on her, she mustered what strength she could and pulled away from her and tried to run. She got no further than three wobbly steps however, because she tripped on the uneven ground and fell down hard.

She heard the Marine make an exasperated noise. The woman pulled her upright.

“You know you can’t run with those cuffs on,” she said. “Save yourself from more injury and don’t try that again.”

Perona’s face hurt. She guessed she must have bruised or cut herself somewhere – possibly on the left cheek. It hurt more there.

The Marine instructed the policeman to put Perona in the station’s jail while she used the transponder snail to contact her crewmates.

“But, ma’am,” began the policeman.

“Just put her in the cell already! I need to inform my captain about this. If one of Gekko Moriah’s crew is here on Notson Ear, others may well be nearby.”

When the cell door closed on her, Perona wondered if it was made of _kairouseki_ too. It didn’t really matter. The cuffs alone were enough to incapacitate her. She curled up in a corner and closed her eyes. She felt so very tired.

 _So this is what_ kairouseki _feels like… It sucks._

Perona really wanted to scream for help. But… Even just breathing felt tiring. It was as if she had been robbed of all her strength. No wonder they deployed it against Devil Fruit users.

It probably wouldn’t help to scream. Even if Zoro heard her, what could he do? He was a wanted man too – much more than she was. But Roronoa Zoro was stronger than this Marine, or any crew that could have come to Notson Ear by chance. He could probably take them down on his own. However, doing that would reveal his location. Would that mean he would have to leave Kuraigana? Would he and Mihawk have to go into hiding somewhere so that he could continue his training? Because if the Marines knew Zoro was here, they would surely bear down on Notson Ear and the surrounding islands in search of him. So maybe it was better for him to not come after her.

In spite of that, Perona wished very much that he would.

… … …

Zoro hacked at a bunch of thorny vines and much to his relief, he saw the houses of the port town before him. He had had to cut his way out of the forest, and all the while he had a mental clock ticking loudly in his head, which made things worse.

A cold fear had begun to grip him and it was only the adrenaline surging through his blood that kept him going as fast as he did. He had run through every logical scenario in his head. The Marine must have caught Perona by surprise. Otherwise she would have blasted the Marine with several explosive hollows, or thrown the Marine into the depths of despondency with a few negative hollows. The fact that she didn’t do anything of the sort meant that either the Marine was some sort of Devil Fruit user too (unlikely, because the man at the shop would have mentioned it if any bizarre power had been on display), or _kairouseki_ was involved somehow. If even someone as strong as Luffy was affected by the stuff, it would be far worse for Perona.

One more determined slash brought down the obstructing plants and he burst out of the forest into bright sunlight.

He vaulted over a fence and ran a little way down the street. It appeared to be a more residential part of the town; there were no shops and he had never seen the area before. Several children were playing on the sidewalk. He called out to them. “Hey, kids!”

They stopped their game and stared at him.

“Where’s the police station?”

One boy stuck out a hand and pointed a finger to Zoro’s left. “It’s that way. Go straight, then take two right turns.”

“Can you show me the way there?” he asked. He couldn’t waste time getting lost again.

The boy hesitated. “I’m not sure…”

One of the other children piped up: “We’re not supposed to go places with strangers!”

“Yeah, and you look scary, mister!” said another.

“Like a scary _marimo_!” said a third.

Zoro glared at him. If only looks could kill…

“And you’ve got swords too. You must be a bad guy.”

“Argh! Forget it!” _I don’t have time for this_. “That way, you said?” He pointed his sword to the left.  

The boy nodded.

“Got it,” said Zoro, and he dashed off.

… … …

The sound of the door opening roused Perona. The blonde Marine stood there, along with a stocky man dressed in a Marine captain’s uniform.

“There she is, sir,” said the blonde.

The captain held up a piece of paper and looked from the paper to Perona.

Perona guessed it must be a wanted poster.

“Good work, Lieutenant Blackberry,” said the captain. “Seems like this quick stop was worth more than just the extra supplies. Let’s get her out of here and put her on the ship. We’ll need to inform headquarters so they can send more patrols to this area. We might run across some of her crewmates.”

She heard someone barking orders and two men entered the cell and hauled her up. She stumbled to her feet.

_Zoro, where are you?_

“Come on, move!” said the man on her right.

“Ease up, Jenkins” said the one holding her left arm. “I hear these Devil Fruit users get really sapped by _kairouseki_.”

Perona walked out of the cell, half-carried by the men. She wished she hadn’t worn her high-heeled boots. It made walking much more difficult when she was so devoid of energy.

“Bah. I saw Portgas D. Ace in _kairouseki_ chains. _He_ could still walk.”

“Firefist is on a totally different level.”

“Are we going to have to drag her all the way to the ship like this?”

“Captain wants her in the brig. We’ve probably got to bring her to headquarters or to Enies Lobby.”

The mention of Enies Lobby sent a chill down Perona’s spine. Zoro had talked about Enies Lobby. Criminals sentenced at Enies Lobby inevitably ended up in Impel Down. And Mihawk had told them about Impel Down. It sounded like a terrible place.

Desperately, she tried to pull back and dig her heels into the ground.

The man called Jenkins exclaimed, “What on earth –? Hey, stop that!”

She wrenched free of them but lost her balance and fell, her legs crumpling under her.

“See?” cried Jenkins. “You can’t go easy on criminals, _kairouseki_ or no!”

“What’s happening?” That sounded like Lieutenant Blackberry.

More booted feet arrived on the scene. Hands reached for her. Perona closed her eyes and gave in. It was no use fighting them. She simply didn’t have the ability to do so without her hollows.

Then suddenly the voices died away and the commotion ceased. Perona’s eyes flew open and she looked up.

Mihawk had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I asked AvengerGal (on FFN) to name one of the Marines at the end and she chose the name Jenkins. XD


	12. Chapter 12

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #914** :

 _There are times when I am thankful that Kuraigana is devoid of human life except for myself. And that Notson Ear is such a quiet, sleepy island that it’s mostly unknown to people. Sometimes I think even the residents of Notson Ear are barely aware of it themselves. Marines hardly come by too. They can be tiresome. Like_ Akainu _. That man is overzealous._

_Why do people complain about living alone? Living alone is great._

… … …

Mihawk surveyed the scene before him impassively. Perona sat on the ground, hands bound in handcuffs. The Marines clustered around her gaped at him. A small crowd of people had gathered as well. He sighed internally. This was going to be annoying.

“What is going on here?” he asked.

The captain came forward. “I am Captain Dogtooth – Dogtooth Chris.”

 _Appropriate name_ , thought Mihawk. The man had a rather bulldog-ish look about him.

“We have apprehended a criminal and we are taking her away. It is nothing you need to worry about, Mihawk.”

“I was not aware,” said Mihawk, “that there were any changes in the agreement between the _Shichibukai_ and the World Government.”

“Changes? There have been no changes. This woman is a member of Gekko Moriah’s crew, and his demotion means that none of them have special protection anymore.”

“You are mistaken. This woman does still have that immunity. Not as part of Moriah’s crew, but as part of mine.”

A buzz of wonder and confusion went round.

Mihawk felt sure that some people were reading entirely too much into his statement. The captain was so surprised that his eyes were almost popping out of his head.

“Since when?” demanded Captain Dogtooth.

“How does that matter? She now comes under the umbrella of my name and that should be enough for you.”

“With all due respect, sir, you don’t _have_ a crew. Everyone knows that.”

Mihawk turned on his iciest stare. “I have a crew when I wish to have a crew. It is not your place to poke your nose into the business of the _Ouka_ _Shichibukai_. There is an agreement in place. We do the occasional bidding of the government, and we the Warlords – and our affiliates – are let alone and _free_.”

He let several seconds pass before he said, “Well? Release her.”

Dogtooth began to argue, but Mihawk cut him off. “I _insist_ , Captain.”

The captain looked like thunder but Mihawk had been a Warlord for a long time, and had been a formidable force even longer. A furious Marine did not faze him in the least.

“If it’s too much trouble, I’ll remove those handcuffs myself,” said Mihawk, walking forward and reaching for the sword hanging on his back. _Kairouseki_ items were tough but more importantly, _kairouseki_ items were expensive. They would not be keen on having him cut up their precious handcuffs.

Captain Dogtooth gave the order through gritted teeth. One of the other Marines unbound her hands.

“Thank you, Captain. I expect you and your crew will be leaving soon. No doubt duty calls you.”

Dogtooth fumed in angry silence.

When the Marines had gone and the crowd had dispersed, Mihawk turned his attention to Perona, who was trying to get to her feet.  

He held out a hand to her and helped her to stand. “I hear _kairouseki_ can be quite detrimental to Devil Fruit users. You’ve never encountered that before, have you?”

She shook her head.

“Can you walk?”

“Yes, I can walk.” Perona dusted her hands and then gingerly touched her left cheek, which looked scratched and slightly bruised. She winced.

“Very well. Let us return. Come.”

They walked for a few minutes in silence. Mihawk noticed that she was favouring her right leg and surmised that she must have injured her other leg somehow. But she didn’t seem to want to mention it. So he let it be, but slowed his walking pace and kept an eye on her.

Perona asked, “How did you know?”

“How did I know where you were? The policeman recognised you. You and Roronoa have both been with me on the last few visits here, after all. And you’re both quite recognisable. He called the Drunken Squirrel the first chance he got.”  

“The Drunken Squirrel…”

“That _is_ the place I usually go when I’m here, Ghost Girl. Or have you already forgotten?”

“No, I just – I don’t know. Sorry, just tired.”

They turned down a quiet road and then Zoro came dashing round the corner. He skidded to a halt when he saw Mihawk.

“Hawkeye! Perona – she –” He broke off, noticing Perona standing beside the Warlord.

Mihawk let the moment hang in the air for several seconds. He observed that Zoro had drawn Shusui, leaving the other two in their sheaths. Interesting. That one was the most powerful sword of the three. He wondered if the choice had been subconscious or conscious - automatically selecting the sword with which he trained the most now, or choosing the strongest one in a time of need.

It didn’t matter. He saw here an opportunity to make the most of the situation. He said, “Excellent timing, Roronoa. She has had a bad shock, and is quite exhausted. Be a gentleman for once in your life and lend her your arm.” He gave his student a pointed, expectant look.

Zoro just stood there awkwardly.

 _Oh, good lord, does he know nothing?_ Mihawk sighed. _How useless_.

“Ghost Girl,” he said, “Feel free to use him as a walking aid. If not, then just pretend he’s your bodyguard until we get to the ship. Put your sword away, Roronoa. We’re leaving.”

“Wait!” said Perona suddenly. Even Zoro was startled.

“What is it?”

“Zoro’s new clothes. We haven’t –”

“You’re worried about Roronoa’s _clothing_?”

“Well, I don’t want to spend my time mending all the clothes you two mess up! You did pick out the ones you wanted, right?” The last part she addressed to Zoro, who was looking as disbelieving as Mihawk sounded.

“Yeah, but…”

“He needs the clothes,” she said decisively. “We only need to pay for them. Oh! Oh no, my handbag – the Marines confiscated it. It must be –”

On the positive side, Perona was at least sounding more like herself now.

“Calm down,” said Mihawk. “I will retrieve it. It should be there. Tell me the store where Roronoa’s new clothes supposedly are and I will settle the matter. You two go straight to the ship and wait for me there. You know the way?”

Having ascertained that Perona did know the way (because Zoro certainly did not) and having made a note of the name of the clothing store, Mihawk set off.

… … …

Perona was extremely glad to be on the boat and heading towards Kuraigana. She tried not to show it, but her ankle was hurting badly. She guessed she had twisted or strained it when she had tried to escape the two Marines. It had taken all her energy and willpower to keep walking without an obvious limp. That she could do so meant it wasn’t a really bad injury but it would take at least some time for the ache to go away.

Mihawk had known, though. He must have, or he wouldn’t have told her to use Zoro “as a walking aid.” She wanted to, but she hadn’t. It would have made her look weak. She felt like such a fool. Getting caught by Marines, and not even being able to put up a fight. Then getting injured. She really was a weakling without her Devil Fruit.

_Kuina wouldn’t have – WHY am I thinking about that?_

Her shoulders sagged. When she had boarded the boat and settle in a seat, she’d tried summoning her hollows and they instantly popped into existence around her. Now several of them hovered close by, and it was comforting to have them there. At least her hollows wouldn’t (and couldn’t) judge her for being weak – or for having inconvenient feelings. But it would be nice to have a Kumashi to hug again. She couldn’t hug her hollows.

She loosened the buckles on her left boot a little to ease the ache on her ankle. Her ankle didn’t look swollen. Not a bad sprain or anything then. Just a strain that should go away fairly soon. Relieved, she leaned her head against the bulkhead and stretched out her legs before her. It was a good thing that Mihawk had acquired a boat other than that coffin-shaped raft of his. She thought that one singularly uncomfortable when they’d used that on the first trip to Notson Ear.

She could hear footsteps and voices on the deck, and from the sound of it, Mihawk was bossing Zoro around, making him adjust the sails and such. Funny. Knowing they were both there was almost as much comfort as having her hollows clustered around her. She yawned and drifted off to sleep.

Perona awoke a while later when Zoro opened the cabin door and announced that they’d reached Kuraigana.

“Hawkeye’s dropping the anchor,” Zoro said. “He says we’re to head back first.”

“All right.” She rubbed her eyes, careful to avoid the injured part of her cheek, and rose. The pressure on her left ankle brought the ache back all at once but she managed to not wince at the sudden pain. She thought Zoro was eyeing her carefully but she pretended not to notice.

The short gangway to the wooden pier was already in place. She appreciated that it had been laid out before he came to get her. It would not have been pleasant to stand there whilst he unfolded the linking platform and set it up. Perona crossed the gangway and walked up the pier, hoping she wasn’t showing signs of injury. It wasn’t _that_ bad, really…

“Hey, wait.”

She stopped and turned around. Zoro walked up to her.

“What?” she asked.

“Does that hurt?” He pointed at her foot.

“No.”

“And you say I like to pretend my injuries are nothing.”

_Argh. He’d noticed!_

While Perona felt glad that he had seen it, she also didn’t like that he had. Comparisons to the toughness of Kuina rose up in her mind again. She began to dismiss his remark but her words turned into a shriek of surprise as he bent, placed an arm around her back and the other at her knees, then swept her up unceremoniously.

“What are you doing?” she said, flailing about ungracefully in an attempt to get him to put her down.

“You probably shouldn’t walk all the way,” was his flat response. “The forest ground is uneven. There are those stupid monkeys still hanging around. And you can’t run wearing those insane boots.”

“Insane?!” Perona stopped flailing in her indignation. “ _Excuse me_ , but these boots were custom-made! They’re not insane!”

“Whatever.”

She tried half-heartedly to reach for the ground with her feet. “Ugh. Put me down, Zoro!”

“Stop fidgeting,” he growled. “And support some of your own weight, will you?!”

“How do you expect me to do that? Wait, I think I should be insulted by that…”

“Just hold yourself up somehow instead of thrashing about like that! Hold my shoulder or something. I’m trying to be helpful here! Geez!”

“Fine,” muttered Perona. She stopped struggling, let her arms slide around his neck, and pulled herself up a little.

Then she became very conscious of how close her face was to his and hurriedly looked over his shoulder at the trees, sky, bushes – anything else but him. This might be a more convenient and stable position, but it was also… Rather nice? She hated that she thought so.

Perona sighed. And immediately wished she hadn’t, because Zoro heard it.

“What’s that sigh for?”

“Nothing! Why do you care so much all of a sudden?” she snapped.

 _You didn’t even come to save me_.

She caught herself before she said the words, but the unspoken thought seemed to hang there in her mind. Glad as she was that Mihawk had arrived to get her out of that fix, she was still a little disappointed that it hadn’t been Zoro. She knew it was a foolish, irrational feeling. Things didn’t happen like they did in romance novels, and Zoro was no romantic hero, much less _her_ romantic hero.

“Never mind,” she said, trying to drive the awkward moment out of her head. “If you won’t put me down then just… keep going. I’d really like to get back home.”

Home. Kuraigana was home now. How odd.

It felt like he tightened his hold on her just a little bit more.

_Oh, why not just enjoy it?_

She dropped her head against his shoulder and tried not to think about how pleasant it was to be held like that.

… … …

“Why do you care so much all of a sudden?”

The words struck Zoro like a dagger.

When he’d found her – with Mihawk – a tremendous wave of relief had washed over him. Mihawk said she’d had a bad shock. It sure looked like she had. Her face was bruised and cut on one side, and she was paler than usual. He became aware then of an uncharacteristic desire to sink to his knees and beg forgiveness for not getting there earlier. 

“Be a gentleman for once in your life and lend her your arm,” were Mihawk’s words. He had been puzzled. Lend her his arm? Was that what Sanji did sometimes when they went ashore to get supplies? He vaguely recalled Sanji happily walking off arm in arm with Nami or Robin on occasion. But why should he do that now? That was weird.

Only when they reached the port did it occur him that she was favouring her right leg. Was her other leg somehow hurt too? It must be – that would explain Mihawk’s telling him to lend her his arm, and that other comment about using him as a “walking aid” if she felt like it. He had felt even more awful then.

Mihawk had reappeared, tossed the bags of new clothes at him, and proceeded to order him around the ship. While a little irritating, it was also a welcome distraction.

But then Mihawk had asked where Zoro had gone.

“I was almost surprised not to find you there already, causing chaos,” Mihawk had said.

He had only been able to mutter something about “damn confusing roads.”

They’d arrived at Kuraigana, and he’d watched Perona as she crossed the deck and the gangway. It did look as though she had some sort of injury on her left leg. Picking her up and carrying her to the castle was a spur-of-the-moment idea, a way to assuage his guilty feelings.

“Why do you care so much all of a sudden?” she said.

The words stung. And puzzled him. Why _did_ he care?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave Namibean the honour of naming the captain in this chapter ^_^


	13. Chapter 13

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #962** :

_Roronoa grumbles a lot. He does not like being forced to stay in bed. Gets fractious and snaps at the Ghost Girl too. She may be whiny, but it must be said that she is a decent nurse. If, one of these days she falls ill, perhaps then he’ll realise how much she’s doing for him right now while he’s laid up in bed._

… … …

Perona’s ankle gradually improved over a week. But by then her ankle was the least worrying thing. Two days after they returned from Notson Ear, she complained over dinner of a headache and went to bed immediately after eating. The next morning she was quieter than usual over breakfast and ate very little. Mihawk noticed it, and so did Zoro.

“What’s with you?” Zoro asked.

“Just tired,” she said. “That’s the third time you’ve asked me that. Quit it already.”

Mihawk observed her slightly flushed face, her damp brow, and the way her hand shook ever so slightly when she picked up her cup. “I think,” he said, “you had best return to bed after breakfast.”

By nightfall, Mihawk decided that she had the Southern Flu. Perona groaned and turned over in bed, mumbling something that sounded like “Oh, just great.” Two small hollows hovered close by, looking concerned.

Zoro, looking from Perona to Mihawk, said, “What’s that?”

“Viral infection. She has the symptoms – fluctuating temperature, throbbing headaches, trembling hands.”

“Aching bones,” muttered Perona from under the blanket.

“That too,” agreed Mihawk. “Sometimes there’s coughing as well. You probably caught it from somewhere in town or in that prison cell.”

Zoro stiffened. He threw Perona an uneasy glance. “Is it… Bad?”

Mihawk was about to answer but then Perona sat up and started to get out of bed.

“Feels bad right now,” she said. “Ugh, I need water.”

Mihawk stopped her with a finger to her forehead. “Stay where you are. Roronoa will fetch water for you.” He turned to Zoro. “You will bring her the things she needs. Don’t argue with me – you will do it. Water, for a start. And I will see if there is appropriate medicine in the cabinet downstairs.”

After that, Perona spent most of her time sleeping. When she was awake, she complained of a low throbbing headache. When she picked things up, sometimes her hands were steady, and sometimes they shook so badly she’d drop whatever she was holding. The coughing made an appearance as well.

Mihawk had expected that. The Southern Flu usually got worse before it got better. He knew it from experience. But apparently Zoro had no experience with the illness and watching her really bothered him. He grumbled about having to “play nursemaid” and having it cut into his training time (which it hardly did on the whole) and seemed as surly as ever. Mihawk suspected that he wasn’t as unconcerned or as irritated about the whole thing as he pretended to be. When they were eating their meals in the dining hall, Zoro twitched and his eyes darted to the door if he thought he heard a sound that could be a cough or a voice. He complained about having to go up and down to bring her food and drink but he still did it – and did it without Mihawk having to kick him up the stairs.

It was even affecting his concentration during training. Zoro had been recently permitted to use two swords instead of just one when they sparred, as Mihawk judged him to have reached acceptable levels of using one sword. This had at first been tremendously motivating to Zoro – he was fond of his two- and three-sword styles, and having to stick to using just one for so long had grated on him. The delight he took in it added to his enthusiasm, his speed, and his energy. But now he was noticeably distracted.

Mihawk knocked Shusui out of his right hand and Zoro watched numbly as the sword spun through the air and landed blade-first in the soil several metres away.

“You are not concentrating,” Mihawk said.

Zoro stomped over to retrieve Shusui. “I _am_ concentrating!”

“Not in the right way.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Mihawk met Zoro’s fierce glower with a cool gaze. “You clearly have something else on your mind, Roronoa. And you are regressing as a result. You haven’t let me disarm you in weeks.”

He sat down on a rock in the shade and indicated that Zoro should seat himself somewhere. Zoro chose to sit cross-legged on the ground and stared grimly at the swords in his lap.

“What is bothering you?”

“None of your damn business.”

“True. It is your business. But it is also your business to learn how to defeat me, is it not? You are not doing that very well at the moment.”

Zoro had no reply to that.

Then Mihawk said, “The Southern Flu is temporarily debilitating, but it is not life-threatening. It usually takes a week or two, but hardly anyone dies of it.”

Zoro shot him a sharp look. “I didn’t say I thought she was going to die!”

“Your face is saying what your mouth is not.”

The response he got was a scowl.

Later, after sending Zoro up to Perona’s room with her meal on a tray, Mihawk wondered if Zoro realised that he hadn’t refuted the suggestion that his distracted state was connected to her. Probably not.

_Well, let’s see if anything interesting will come out of this._

… … …

Perona ate in a despondent mood. The headache had lessened, but her hands had started trembling again so she had to eat rather slowly in order to not spill the soup or drop anything on the floor or on her bed. Being sick was really not fun.

She finished her food and tried to resume reading _The_ _Ghouls of the Grand Line_. But reading was quite a trial with shaky hands. She gave up after two pages, half feeling like tossing the book out the window.  

Of course, it wasn’t just the book thing. She knew that very well.

_He’s an idiot. I shouldn’t waste my time on him. Stupid feelings._

Zoro had brought her food earlier, nodded at her thanks, and left abruptly. He’d been doing that for some days now, and it puzzled and hurt her. He didn’t seem to want to look at her. Was it because she was sick? Did sickness put him off that much? _Perhaps the wonderful Kuina never fell ill_ , she thought bitterly. 

A tap at the door interrupted her thoughts. She hurriedly pressed the blanket to the cheek where several tears had made their way down her face, and flipped the book open again to a random page. She didn’t want him to think she’d been sitting there crying. It would be awful if he asked why – she wouldn’t be able to tell him the reasons for it. She could always just negative-hollow him if he did though…

Zoro came into the room. Perona nodded in the direction of the empty plates on the tray, saying, “I’m done. Thanks.”

He stopped several feet away from her bed, hands in his pockets and an odd expression on his downturned face.

She blinked at him. “What?”

Zoro held his hand out towards the book in her lap. “Give me that.”

“Huh?” Perona passed it to him with a dubious look. “Why?”

He drew up a chair, sat down and started turning the pages. “I’ll read to you.”

“Read… Read aloud? _Why?_ ”

… … …

Zoro forced himself to meet her eyes. Looking at her discomfited him. Looking at her showed him how unwell she was, and that heightened his mixed emotions. There was frustration, there was guilt. There was foolishness. Anger. Dismay. Even irrelevance.

Not being able to save anyone from Kuma at Sabaody was one thing – the man was a Warlord with a strange and powerful Devil Fruit ability; even Mihawk might have a tricky time of it. It was frustrating in a different way. But not being able to rescue Perona from mere Marines? That was a totally different scenario and the only reason he hadn’t been able to help her was because he’d gotten lost. Of all the stupid reasons!

To top it all off, she was sick now, and that too was a result of that mess.

He scratched the back of his neck. “Just thought… It’s probably hard to read when you have a headache, right? And when your hands are shaking like that.”

“It is, but –”

“So I’ll do the reading. When you find it hard because of headaches or whatever.”

She was speechless. Zoro decided that the book was a much safer object of attention at that moment and resumed his idle turning of pages.

He had expected some surprise from her. He’d surprised himself too. The seed of that idea had lodged itself in his brain earlier when he’d brought her food. The book had been in her lap, and her fingers pressed her forehead as if trying to stave off pain. The seed had taken root and during the hour he’d spent brooding on the ramparts, it had sprouted into this idea of reading to her. It wasn’t altogether natural to him, but he simply _had_ to do something. The guilt over the incident with the Marines at Notson Ear Island was eating at him in most inconvenient ways. This had seemed to him like appropriate penance. 

“Did you fall down the stairs and hit your head?”

Her question shifted the mood back into familiar territory and he immediately felt calmer. He retorted, “What? You think I can’t do things for people just to be nice?”

“You usually don’t.”

“Well, I can,” he said defensively. “Do you want me to do this or not?”

Perona was regarding him contemplatively. He found it difficult to meet her gaze squarely without squirming. If her hair wasn’t let down it would be easier. She always did look more attractive with her hair down… And had her eyes always been that dark?  

After another moment of silence, she said, “I guess I wouldn’t mind that.”

She hadn’t laughed at him, and she hadn’t pushed him away either. It felt as though a heavy burden was lifted from his mind. Odd. He hadn’t even known it was weighing on him.

“Are you sure you can manage that book?” she asked. “It’s in kanji –”

“You’ve made me read this book about a million times.”

“I have not!”

“Felt like a million.” He shrugged. “If I get stuck, you’ll just have to tell me what it says. I should think you have it memorised by now. Besides, I haven’t had a lesson in some time. This is as good a method as any, I guess. Where do you want me to start?” 


	14. Chapter 14

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, entry #993** :

_The girl came down with the Southern Flu. It is unsettling Roronoa even more. He was already looking distracted after we returned from Notson Ear. It’s worse now._

_Perhaps he has finally become aware of the latent attraction? One wonders. Then again, he does appear to be rather dense, so perhaps not._

… … …

 _I should have said no_ , thought Perona. But the offer had been irresistible.

Zoro was at that moment reading to her from a book of short mystery stories. His reading skill had improved a little since she’d begun trying to teach him, but he was definitely a long way from being actually fluent in reading kanji. He still butchered half the words in _The Ghouls of the Grand Line_ and she had taken to scribbling hiragana guides on some pages in pencil to help.

 _This is_ not _the way to stop having feelings for someone._

Perona was staring up at the ceiling, just listening to him. It was incredibly hard to _not_ feel a flutter in her heart when Zoro was willing to sit there for half an hour every night (and even occasionally some afternoons) and do something as boring as reading aloud from books he didn’t like. It wasn’t boring to her but she was certain it must be dull for him. She didn’t understand why he did it at all. It wasn’t at Mihawk’s instigation – if that was the case, he would have complained about it every chance he got. Did he feel _that_ badly about her being sick? Possibly. That didn’t seem like a very “Zoro” thing to do though.

She heard Zoro stumble over a word.

“‘ _The great detective smiled in- in-’_ ”

Perona closed her eyes and sighed. She removed her hand from its comfy position under the blanket, crooked a finger at Zoro and held out her hand. He gave her the book. She read the sentence and said, “The word is ‘indulgent.’”

“Dumb word.”

“You can’t go around declaring words dumb just because you can’t read them.” She propped herself up on an elbow, took a pencil from her bedside table and wrote in the pronunciation of the word over the character. As she replaced the pencil on the table, it slipped out of her fingers and fell onto the floor. She let out an involuntary “Ack!” and made a hasty and futile grab for the pencil as it started to roll merrily away and under the bed.

Zoro reacted, sliding off the chair to his knees to grab the pencil before it rolled too far. Perona made the mistake of leaning over at the same moment that he straightened up and the top of his head connected with her nose. She squealed in pain and covered her nose with her hands. Her eyes started to water.

_His head is like a rock! (That would explain a few things, I guess…)_

“Watch what you’re doing!” he grumbled, rubbing his head. “That hurt.”

She glared at him. “Your skull is harder than my nose. Which do you think hurts more?”

Her voice was muffled behind her hands but Zoro must have heard her, because he looked at her and said, “Oi. You okay?”

She nodded and waved him away with one hand, keeping the other over her sore nose. “I’m all right.”

Before she could wave him away again, he took hold of the hand that was covering her nose and pulled it away. He leaned in a little. Perona almost jerked back automatically. She blinked.

“Looks fine,” he said.

“Told you.”

Perona didn’t know if she wanted him to lean in closer or move away. The former option was distinctly more tantalising than the latter. But even from their current position she could see that Zoro’s eyes were a dark, dark brown. She’d never noticed that before. And he still hadn’t let go of her wrist. Glancing away, she said, “You’ve probably flattened my nose but whatever – it’s not like I had a great nose to begin with.”

“Nothing wrong with it. It’s fine the way it is.”

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“I don’t.”

There was something unusual in the way that he said it, and she turned to him with surprise. The moment her eyes met his, the air changed with a frightening swiftness. Everything seemed to go dead silent with suspense. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out.

Then as quickly as it had come, the charged atmosphere dissipated. She couldn’t tell what had happened, but clearly the moment – or whatever it was – had passed. Zoro released her hand and settled back in his chair, asking if she was done with the book. She nodded, gave it back to him, and resumed her place among the pillows.

“You want me to continue this?” he said. “There’s only one more paragraph.”

Perona drew the blanket over herself, trying not to feel disappointed.  “Sure. Why not?”

… … …

It was difficult to squeeze the reading into his daily routine, which was still filled with various training activities. But Zoro tried to fit it in at least once a day. It did help alleviate his guilt. It was also… Rather nice. After a day of strenuous and challenging work under Mihawk’s eye, just sitting there was quite pleasant. Relaxing, even. She didn’t tell him his stance was off, or that his movements were crude, or that he was relying too much on brute strength.

Of course, Perona sometimes nagged him when he tripped over simple words, or forgot some characters completely, but he found that he didn’t mind it much. Besides, it was better to have her chiding him than to see her curled up on the bed, eyes screwed shut because of a headache that hurt so much she didn’t even notice his errors. That had happened once and he had been at such a loss that his head almost started hurting too.

He had missed his crewmates badly then – Chopper would have dosed her with the right medicine. Robin would have been able to read to her. Nami would have been able to fuss over her. Sanji would have whipped up some nutritious but delicious food and fussed over her too (Zoro did _not_ like the idea of Sanji fussing over her). Luffy and Usopp would have cracked stupid jokes and pranced around to distract and cheer her up. Franky would have attempted to build her a more comfortable bed or something. Brook would have played her soothing music. What could he, Roronoa Zoro, do? There was no physical enemy here he could duel and do away with. He could do nothing.

So he accepted her benign scolds. It was preferable to the alternative. But her condition was certainly improving. The headaches and coughing had lessened, and her hands were less shaky now. Part of him wondered vaguely why he hadn’t stopped reading to her even though she was much better. Sure, he found it pleasant to just sit there but even that didn’t really make sense.

Then there had been that one odd moment after she’d bumped her nose against his head. She’d recoiled from him with a shriek, covered her nose and had been blinking away what looked like tears. He didn’t know what had possessed him to pull her hand away and lean in, but he did know that right after that he’d had a sudden, strong desire to kiss her. He hadn’t been inclined to do that to anyone in so long that it felt utterly new to him. It was with great effort that he masked his shock and carried on as usual.

Zoro had puzzled over it for a while before he finally went to bed, but he finally decided that it was just the result of the physical situation – pulling her hand away and looking right at her from so close and all that.  He hadn’t bothered about women since he joined Luffy’s crew. There were more important things in life – like becoming the best swordsman in the world. It was probably just a momentary reaction from being near an attractive woman. It was something that ero-cook would do. How stupid. He shrugged it off after that.

He knocked (a habit she had forced into him by way of negative hollows). There was no answer. He opened the door carefully and peeked in.

It looked like she had fallen asleep while reading. She was only half covered by the blanket and her right arm and leg stuck out from under it. The uncovered arm hung over the side of the bed and an open book lay on the floor.

Zoro picked the book up. Perona shifted in her sleep just then, drawing his eye to her. Her hair was spread over the pillows in untidy curls and her eyelids twitched slightly, as if she were dreaming. He noticed that her lashes were unusually long. Was it that way for all women? He didn’t pay close attention to women in general. Not even the two who were on the Sunny. Funny, that. He’d never noticed anything in particular about Nami or Robin except that Nami’s hair was orange and Robin had really long legs, and that Robin had more tanned skin than Nami. Perona was much fairer than Nami, though. Her skin was almost white. Perhaps it was a side-effect of her Devil’s Fruit.

She shifted in her sleep and a stray curl fell over her face. He wanted to reach over and brush it away…

The unusual impulse made him stop and blink stupidly for a second. That was definitely not a normal thought. Maybe it was triggered by some residual guilt.

He realised that he was staring, and turned away to put the book down on the table. A bookmark and several other things slid out as he did. He caught the bookmark just in time to still keep the page it had been marking but the other items – a few sheets of slightly worn paper and a random piece of shiny ribbon that looked like one she’d worn before. Zoro retrieved the papers and the ribbon and started to stuff them back where they came from.

Then a name on one of the sheets of paper caught his eye.

_Mihawk?_

Curiosity compelled him to look more closely at it. It was written in kanji with several words in the alphabet and many corrections had been made, but it was still legible:

 

> _I stood on the white sandy beach, my elegant fingers clasped behind my back while the refreshing sea breeze tugged at my long candy-pink locks, which were bathed in the orange glow from the warm rays of the setting sun. My feet were inches from the gentle waves, reflecting the dying silver-orange sunlight, that lapped at the fine snow-coloured sand which reminded me of miniscule pearls._
> 
> _“Still here?”_
> 
> _I turned swiftly and smiled when my eyes settled on the tall, dashing man coming up behind me. His footsteps were solid and comforting in their manliness, and his cloak swished around him in a mysterious way._
> 
> _“Where else would I be?” I said with a sultry smile that could melt any man’s heart._
> 
> _“I don’t know,” the raven-haired man said. “Off making eyes at Drake, perhaps, or Hawkins.”_
> 
> _I felt my lips thin into a line that curved downwards at the ends. A frown creased my brow as a sudden strong gust of the aforementioned salt-tinged sea breeze pushed several unruly strands of hair into my face. The sun was setting quickly now, and the light was fading, changing the sky from a golden papaya shade to a pale lavender colour._
> 
> _“Don’t say stupid things like that,” I protested._
> 
> _“Are they stupid?” Dracule Mihawk turned suddenly to look at me, his piercing ruby orbs gazing searchingly into my own._
> 
> _I couldn’t believe it. Did he really doubt my loyalty and my love? Had he already forgotten that night under the stars? My heart shattered like a glass window hit by a bullet. I couldn’t look at him. I felt my eyes filling with salty tears._
> 
> _“Yes, they are!” I said in a trembling voice. “But if you don’t believe me, then… Fine! Don’t!”_
> 
> _I started to walk away, but he caught my arm before I was out of range._
> 
> _“Let me go!” I tried to shake off his hand, but his grip was firm and I failed. Why did Mihawk have to be so strong?_
> 
> _Then I was pulled into a crushing embrace against his virile body._
> 
> _“Forgive me.”_
> 
> _One warm hand rested on my back, and the other caressed my pastel pink tresses. In spite of myself, my hands wrapped around his sturdy waist, and I leaned my head on his rugged chest. Then he lifted my face to his, and he slanted his lips over mine and_

Zoro almost threw the paper and the book across the room. What the _hell_ was that?? His skin crawled just from reading it. He hurriedly stuffed the paper back where it came from and put the book on the nearest flat surface.

It was in Perona’s handwriting. Was she writing some story about Mihawk and – _herself_? He hadn’t understood or been able to read all the words, but he understood enough to get the gist of it. It seemed like one of those over-the-top romances of which women were so fond. Yuck.

But it suggested a new, unsettling idea to him. Was Perona _attracted_ to Mihawk?

… … …

Perona awoke from her nap and realised that her book was no longer in her hand. Blearily, she looked around for it.

 _It must’ve fallen on the floor_ , she thought. But there was no book on the floor.

She rubbed her eyes and frowned. Where could it be? The last thing she wanted was for Mihawk or Zoro to see the book – not because of the book itself (a harmless fantasy horror story called _The Fifteenth Moon_ ) but because she had stuffed in the back several pages of her little story of Mihawk and Jewelry Bonney. It was a wacky idea but she’d started writing it out of boredom when the popularity polls had been published. Pairing the most popular Warlord with the most popular Supernova had seemed amusing at the time and she’d actually scribbled about five pages worth of it – the last two of which were in the back of the book. She’d never hear the end of it if Zoro found it. If _Mihawk_ came across it, she might have to leave Kuraigana out of sheer embarrassment. There’d be no explaining it away…

She tossed her blanket aside to see if it was somewhere underneath. No book there. Another survey of the floor showed her the book definitely wasn’t on the floor. Then she saw it on the bedside table.

She let out a sigh of relief. She must have put it there automatically and forgotten about it as she fell asleep.

That was possible. She could’ve placed it there seconds before she drifted off to sleep. She flipped to the back of the book and saw the pieces of paper still stuck there. Perona coughed as she drew them out and unfolded them.

Being sick was no fun, but since it meant she didn’t have to do anything around the castle, she might as well amuse herself with writing that story. It was an outlet for her unfortunate crush on Zoro too. After all, if she couldn’t have romance in her life, she’d just have to imagine it. She looked around for a pen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: My skin crawls too when I re-read what "Perona" wrote. Can't believe I managed to churn that out. XD  
> Namibean and I had a good time laughing over this idea when I first suggested it. It was almost too hilarious to not use, and it worked as I was trying to keep the reading theme in the story somehow. ^^


	15. Chapter 15

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, #986** :

_Caught Roronoa staring at Perona today over lunch. I asked him about it when she left the room and he denied it in an unnaturally vehement manner. He called me a “delusional old man” too._

_I have decided that tomorrow’s training will consist of hauling water from the river – three buckets at a time._

… … …

It took a few more days before Perona recovered sufficiently to resume her usual activities around the castle. But when she rejoined the men for breakfast, Zoro wished that she wasn’t well enough for it. He found it uncomfortable to be in the same room as Dracule Mihawk and Perona after having read that page of that idiotic love story she had been writing. He could barely even look Mihawk in the eye after that and having Perona in the same room only made it worse.

Everything they did seemed to take on new dimensions. When Perona asked Mihawk to pass the salt, Zoro wondered if that was an excuse to speak to him. When Perona came out to watch the training, he suspected it was just a cover for her to spend more time with Mihawk. When Mihawk remarked on a particular hat of hers, Zoro took it as a sign that Mihawk was _noticing_ things. When Perona braided her hair three days in a row, he suspected that perhaps Mihawk favoured braids. When Mihawk dropped a dry one-liner… Perona laughed. She _laughed_. That laugh had flirty overtones to his ears. Usopp had once said that women love guys who can make them laugh.

It was all simply disgusting. And irritating. Mihawk was supposed to be training him, not flirting with Perona!

He began to feel a great desire to complete his training as quickly as possible so he could leave Kuraigana. Being a third wheel did not suit him. And besides, if he managed to get back to Sabaody first, he could hold it over everyone else’s heads – especially Dartboard-eyebrow.

So he worked harder than ever. Ran twice as many rounds, pushed himself to lift heavier weights, practiced his stances twice as frequently.

But he had to admit that even if Mihawk was carrying on some romance with Perona, he was not letting it affect his fighting methods. If anything, he was even better than before. That was maddening. 

The situation was not only disgusting and irritating, it was also frustrating.

“Raw power alone will not win you all fights, Roronoa,” said Mihawk during one sparring session. “You seem to be more energetic lately. But your recklessness is coming back. I thought you’d finally gotten some semblance of finesse into your style. Try again.”

Zoro advanced on Mihawk at a run, both swords flashing as they caught the sunlight (for it was an unusually clear day in Kuraigana). But the attempt to catch Mihawk with two rapid slashes one after the other failed – a well-placed swing of Yoru redirected Shusui’s point into the ground; and a quick turn of the wrist met the second blow from Sandai Kitetsu, bringing it to a sudden halt.

They stood there, locked in position. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Zoro knew he should let go. He should relax and move back instead of trying to push against Mihawk’s clearly superior hold and strength in the moment. But… But he really didn’t want to lose to Mihawk and letting go seemed to him like giving up. He tried to press forward instead. 

Pain shot through the arm that held Kitetsu against Yoru. That wasn’t a good sign.

Then Mihawk withdrew his sword. The sudden loss of counter pressure caused Zoro to stumble forward. Kitetsu fell from his hand with a dull thump and he grimaced, his left hand going limp.

“You kept your grip on your sword too tight and for too long,” Mihawk said. “Why did you insist on pushing back? Acknowledge your limits and find a new way around them. If you stubbornly persist in a losing move, it won’t get you anywhere.”

Zoro merely stared at his left hand, attempting to wiggle his fingers and rotate his wrist. He winced involuntarily. Oh, that was not good. It even looked like his wrist was beginning to swell.

“We’re done for today. And tomorrow as well, I think.”

Zoro opposed this. “I can go on! I’ll just use one hand!”

“No. That’s not going to heal overnight. Get Ghost Girl to patch you up first then rest tomorrow. We’ll see after that.” Mihawk sheathed his sword.

That was not to at all to Zoro’s liking. “I can still train,” he protested.

“If you insist on it, Roronoa, do some running tomorrow. Around the castle grounds only, please. But no exerting that hand unless you wish to make it worse.”

Sulkily, Zoro trudged back to the castle behind Mihawk.

Perona greeted them by poking her astral form through the ceiling. A hollow followed her and hooted in Zoro’s face as he mounted the stairs. Zoro growled at it. It giggled.

“You two are back early,” Perona said.

Mihawk pointed at Zoro. “Roronoa’s injured his wrist. Time for you to do your duty.”

“ _Another_ injury?”

“I’m fine,” said Zoro.

“I don’t believe that,” said Perona at the same time that Mihawk said in an aggravatingly sarcastic tone, “I’m sure she’ll believe that, Roronoa.”

Zoro flinched at their synchronicity. Were they even reading each other’s minds now?

“I’ll be right down,” sighed Perona, and she floated away.

… … …

Perona came down to the dining room with the first aid kit and several hollows in tow. To her surprise, only Mihawk was there, helping himself to some wine.

“Where’s Zoro?”

“Probably in his room. Or in the kitchen. Or the old library. With his sense of direction, who knows?” Mihawk sniffed the wine in the glass, glanced at it, and gave it an approving nod.

“Why’d he go to his room?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. Why don’t you ask him? He’s been behaving a little peculiarly on the whole.”

She thought about that. It was quite true. “He _has_ been a bit… Weird. Like he doesn’t want to look at you when you talk to him? He gets a strange look on his face too sometimes.” _Plus_ , _he’s been avoiding me again._

“So you’ve noticed too. Good.” Mihawk leaned back in his chair and picked up a book. “Go find out what’s wrong with him.”

“What? Why me? You’re his teacher – why don’t _you_ ask him?” Two of the hollows floating around her head nodded as if in agreement with her.

“There are things that students don’t tell teachers. Some things are reserved for – friends.”

Perona noticed the tiny pause before the word “friends” and frowned uneasily. Mihawk had been about to say something else. What was it?

She shrugged as nonchalantly as possible and said, “Whatever. I’ll go dig him out and see about that wrist.”

Zoro was indeed in his bedroom. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, his left hand upturned and resting on his knee. He glanced up when she opened the door and scowled.

“I’m fine.” He turned towards the window on the other side of the room.

Perona rolled her eyes and shook her head. She waved away her hollows. He didn’t like them much even when he was in a normal mood, and he appeared to be extra grumpy right then. She walked over to him, set the first aid kit on the floor and held out her hand. “Let me see.”

“I’m fine, I tell you. Just leave the pain ointment stuff and then you can go do whatever.”

“What? Don’t be silly.” She plopped herself down on the bed in front of Zoro and reached for the injured hand. “Don’t fight me – you’ll only make it harder.”

He muttered something under his breath. She decided not to ask him to repeat what he’d said. It would probably be something aggravating.

Perona raised his swollen wrist carefully. She inspected the hand and the forearm. Nothing seemed to be broken; it was only the wrist that was hurt. Maybe some arm muscle was slightly strained too, judging by how his eyelids twitched when she pressed her fingers to parts of the forearm.

She observed wryly to herself that first she’d sprained her ankle and now Zoro had sprained his wrist and arm. _What a parallel_. _I was a much less grouchy patient though._

“Okay,” she said, “I’m going to put something on this and then wrap it up. It looks like a pretty bad sprain.”

“Just get it over with.”

The brusque way in which he spoke startled Perona. He was usually taciturn and gruff, but there was a dismissive, hard edge to his manner of speaking now that she hadn’t heard in a long time. And he wasn’t even looking at her!

“I’m trying to help here,” she said, trying to mask the rising annoyance and hurt. She dabbed some cooling pain relief salve onto his wrist and then started to unroll the necessary bandages.

“Yeah, well, the sooner you’re done, the sooner you can get back to – whatever other stupid things you usually do. Fussing over Mihawk or whatever.”

Perona jerked her head up. He was still staring resolutely out the window. She felt anger bubble up and over.

“ _What_ is wrong with you, Roronoa Zoro?”

He turned his head slightly and gave her a sidelong look.

“I am trying to _help_ you here, you twit!” Her voice rose in pitch as she got angrier. She waved the roll of bandages at him. “Why do you have to be so rude these days? You were like this at the start, but you haven’t been this – this _mean_ since then!”

Something that resembled emotion flickered across his face.

“And what do you mean by ‘fussing over Mihawk’? _When_ have I ever fussed over Mihawk? I don’t ‘fuss’ over anyone except Kumashi and Kumashi isn’t here!” The memory of her beloved zombie bear suddenly made her want to cry.

Zoro suddenly spoke again. “I’m not blind. I can see what’s going on around me!”

“Huh?? I don’t even know what you’re talking about anymore. You sound like a – like some stupid jealous boyfriend!”

Her hollows popped into existence all around her and they glared at Zoro.

“I do not!” exclaimed Zoro, eyeing her hollows warily. “Why would I be jealous?” He looked disgusted by the idea.

The expression on his face nettled her further.  “I’m not saying that you are! That’s just what you _sound_ like.”

 _I wish you_ were _jealous_ …

“That’s stupid.”

“Forget it.” Perona pulled his hand forward – a little harder than she’d meant to – and proceeded to wrap his wrist tightly with the bandages. When she was done, she gathered the first aid things and left the room without another word.

She went to the dining hall and flung the door open. Mihawk looked up at her.

“Make your own dinner today,” she said. “Or make that stupid ass upstairs do it. I don’t care. I’m not going to.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She went straight back to her own room, dropped the first aid kit on the floor, and threw herself on the bed. She buried her face in a pillow and screamed into it.

What was it that people always said? Love is blind? If that was true then she couldn’t possibly really have any feelings for that idiot. Yet she knew that his behaviour grated on her so because she _did_ rather like him. Oh, for the days when she lived in blissful ignorance of what it was to have a crush on someone…

… … …

Zoro considered not going down to dinner at all. But then his stomach began to rumble and he finally gave in and went to the dining hall. To his surprise, Mihawk sat there alone with a bowl of soup, a loaf of bread, and some fried fish on a plate.

“Hungry at last, Roronoa?”

Zoro nodded as he sat down. Where was Perona? She clearly hadn’t made the dinner – the soup, bread, and fried fish were Mihawk’s version of a quick meal. He resisted the desire to ask where she was. He didn’t care where she was anyway. It was just surprising that she wasn’t there with Mihawk.

He scooped out some soup from the large bowl into a smaller one that Mihawk handed to him. He helped himself to several slices of bread and one of the two fried fish.

“How’s your wrist?” asked Mihawk.

“It’s fine.”

“What did Ghost Girl say about it?”

“Didn’t she tell you?” Zoro felt sure that Perona had already given Mihawk her opinion on his injury. Why should he bother repeating himself? He dipped a piece of bread into the soup and ate it.

“She may have called you a few names, but she didn’t tell me anything otherwise.”

“She – what?”

“What did you do this time to drive her into such an angry mood, Roronoa?

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you not?”

Mihawk moved the remaining fish to his own plate and began cutting it up into smaller pieces.

Zoro tried to picture what would happen if he threw his bowl of soup at Mihawk. The worst case scenario would be that Mihawk would kick him out and quit teaching him. The latter part was bad, but being kicked out almost sounded good to him. At least he wouldn’t have to watch Mihawk and Perona making eyes at each other.

The rest of the meal passed in silence. Zoro ate as fast as he could, not wanting to stay long in case Perona decided to show up. Just as he finished the last scrap of fish, Mihawk said, “Perhaps you owe her an apology.”

“ _I_ owe her an apology? What for?”

“From experience, it’s usually something you’ve done that riles her up to that extent.”

“I didn’t do anything! I just said –” Zoro stopped short. He couldn’t tell Mihawk what he’d said. It would just make things even more awkward. Mihawk might demand an explanation which would need him to talk about that disgustingly sappy love story.  

“So you did say something to her. Presumably something offensive.” 

“Hey, she gets mad over every little thing!”

“She does get irritated a good deal. But you must admit that she doesn’t often get very, very angry.”

“You wouldn’t think she’s twenty-three,” muttered Zoro. _Writing stupid love stories about herself and saying I’m acting like a jealous boyfriend. Gah. Can’t believe I bothered to read to her._ He rolled his eyes at his now-empty plate.

“And I sometimes don’t think you’re nineteen – or twenty,” countered Mihawk. “You two really are a pair.”

“What are you talking about? _You two_ are the pair, if anything!”

Mihawk gave him a curious look. Zoro didn’t like that.

“‘You two are the pair’? I am not certain I fully understand your meaning.”

 _Oh crap_.

Zoro reached out for his glass of water, wishing he could take Mihawk’s wine instead. “Never mind,” he said.

“By ‘you two’, were you referring to the Ghost Girl and myself?”

Not answering seemed like the best option. Dracule Mihawk appeared disturbingly telepathic at times. Zoro tipped the water down his throat.

“Hmm. Are you jealous, Roronoa?”

Zoro choked, sputtered, and coughed.  “ _Jealous_??”

Mihawk smiled slowly, smugly. Zoro got the sense that his reaction had been exactly what Mihawk wanted.

“You sounded like you were.”

“I am _not_. What would I be jealous of?”

“Under normal circumstances, I would say: my skill, my looks, or” – he pointed to something behind Zoro – “my title.”

Zoro turned and for the first time, he noticed a shiny golden plaque on the wall. It was emblazoned with the words _Mr. Seven Warlords: Dracule Mihawk_. Where had that come from?? He wanted to chop it into tiny pieces.

“But,” continued Mihawk, “in this circumstance, my guess would be that you are jealous of what you assume to be Perona’s preference for me.”

Never mind the plaque. Chopping Mihawk into tiny pieces would feel more satisfactory.

Zoro scoffed at the idea. “Your guess is wrong. She can prefer whoever she wants. I don’t care.” He pushed his chair back and got up.

“Wash your own plate and things, Roronoa. I’m not doing them for you.”

He gathered his plate, bowl, fork and spoon with a clatter, kicked the door open and marched down the stairs.

That Mihawk was getting dumb ideas. Just like Perona. What was with the sudden mentions of jealousy and stuff?? Where did they get such ideas anyway?

He opened the door and walked… Into the courtyard.

_This isn’t the kitchen._

… … …

Mihawk took a small cloth out of a drawer and wiped a smudge off his plaque (which was a gift from the Coo News Agency). Poking fun at his protégé was entertaining. He was certain that Zoro had developed the notion that there was an attachment between Perona and himself. It had dawned on him when Zoro had blurted out the line “You two are the pair!” Where or how Zoro had conceived that idea Mihawk didn’t know, but he hadn’t been able to resist needling Zoro.

Did that boy really have no self-awareness? Zoro was either unaware of his feelings or else he truly did not care for Perona. The latter didn’t seem logical, given his behaviour. He had even been spending more time than usual sitting in her room. (Mihawk had looked in once and found them both asleep – Perona in her bed and Zoro on a chair nearby. That had been an odd sight.) The third option was that Zoro knew how he felt, but was trying very hard to suppress it for some reason. That did not quite fit with Zoro’s personality, so Mihawk discarded the idea. Lack of awareness was the most likely. Roronoa Zoro was jealous, and didn’t know he was jealous.

Mihawk stepped back, observed the shine on the plaque with satisfaction, and put the cloth away.


	16. Chapter 16

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, #990** :

_With all their shenanigans, I feel like I’m living in an overly-dramatic romance novel. Or perhaps a comedy. Roronoa walked into a tree today because he “didn’t see it.” Of course he didn’t see it. He was got distracted by the Ghost Girl and walked into a low-hanging branch. I’m surprised he didn’t put his eye out._

… … …

Zoro rotated his wrist and flexed the fingers of his left hand. His wrist felt a bit stiff still but at least Mihawk had declared it all right for him to at least practice stances and simple moves.

“No sudden movements. Don’t overdo it,” Mihawk had said. “It’s only been two days. Fortunately, your sprain appears to be of the milder sort. But do _not_ aggravate it.”

At that moment, Mihawk was doing his own exercises at the other end of the courtyard. He paused occasionally to observe Zoro’s practice and called out comments when he thought it necessary. Zoro watched Mihawk with begrudging respect. Mihawk was using a wooden sword for practice. It was a normal-sized sword; nothing like Yoru or the tiny dagger Mihawk wore round his neck. Zoro had to respect Mihawk’s willingness to keep working at the basics even though his skill level was so very far above that. Zoro did his basic exercises, but he found them tedious and much preferred basic strength training to basic sword drills.

Zoro looked away from Mihawk and resumed his own activity. He stretched out his right arm in front of him and with his left, placed Kitetsu carefully on the back of the right hand. It wobbled for a bit before he managed to find the correct angle and position for optimum balance. Then he closed his eyes and carefully moved his arm to the side, trying to keep the sword in place. Mihawk had recommended this as a method of practising concentration and familiarising himself with the weight and feel of his swords. This way, he learnt that Wado Ichimonji felt the lightest and had the best balance. Shusui had the heaviest blade but something in its make caused it to be quite easy to balance quickly on the back of his hand. Kitetsu proved to be the trickiest one to figure out. It felt light, but at the same time it seemed to be weighted strangely so it had a tendency to teeter unsteadily.

He breathed in. And out. He felt a slight wobble in Kitetsu as he exhaled.

_Relax and hold steady_. _Breathe._

A minute tilt of the arm stopped the wobble.

He didn’t have to look at it to know that he’d got it just right. He smiled to no one in particular. Now to hold it for a full minute. The last time he’d tried this he only managed to balance Kitetsu on the back of his hand for thirty seconds before it fell off (presumably due to some unconscious muscle twitch of his).

The sound of Perona’s voice made him crack one eye open. She was holding a basket ( _Real Perona then, not Ghost Perona_ , thought Zoro) and seemed to be asking Mihawk something about whatever was in it. He could hear their voices, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Not that he cared what they were talking about. It was probably something boring. Let them flirt all they wanted. He had better things to do. It wasn’t as though he wanted to talk to her anyway.

Kitetsu rolled off his hand and fell to the ground. Zoro made an annoyed noise and picked it up.

Mihawk and Perona were still talking. Mihawk idly tossed the wooden sword up – it went high enough to flip round twice – and caught it by the hilt without even glancing at it. Perona appeared to be impressed.

Zoro snorted derisively. She thought _that_ was impressive?

He tossed his sword straight up and caught it by the hilt. He threw it again – higher and with enough force to make it spin, and caught it again. When he repeated the actions and caught the sword a third time, he smiled smugly. Easy stuff.  Nothing very impressive about that.

He wondered if he could throw it higher still and then catch it in his mouth. That would be really impressive. Might be a good thing to add to his repertoire of moves too.

Up went the sword. But it didn’t go high enough; the arc was low and he had to catch it with his hand instead. He weighed the sword in his hand for a moment, to reassess the feel of it and the force needed to send it up to a sufficient height. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Perona and Mihawk look his way.

_I’ll show them_.

So he threw it into the air, watched it spin, descend – and then there was pain, and darkness.

… … …

“Are you sure the ground outside there is suitable for growing cabbage?” asked Perona. She shook the basket so that the three cabbages within it rolled around like oversized green marbles.

“When I first arrived here, there were clear signs that the area outside the castle had been used for growing plants in them,” said Mihawk. “I do not know if cabbages in particular will grow well there, but if you wish, you may try.”

“Like I said, it would save time if we could grow our own foodstuff. Notson Ear is – what?” Perona stopped, noticing that Mihawk had turned in Zoro’s direction. She followed his gaze.

Zoro flung his sword high up and –

Perona hardly understood what happened next. The sword came down. And then there was blood. Zoro stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. She heard herself scream his name at the same instant that Mihawk dashed over to him with superhuman speed. Then she was running across the courtyard too.

Later, she would describe it all as just being a blur: Zoro lying on the ground with blood running down his face. Mihawk lifting him up with ease and taking him into the castle. Mihawk instructing her to get water, get cloth, get bandages, fetch this, fetch that. Did she know how to treat injuries like this? No, she did not. Mihawk saying he would send for a doctor. Rain beginning to pelt the windows. Mihawk calling a doctor on his rarely-used transponder snail. Zoro, still bleeding, mumbling, “I’m fine,” “Go away,” and “What happened?” over and over again but in varying order and with a variety of swear words in between, while she tried to do what she could to staunch the bleeding and make him lie still.

Four hours later, at eight o’clock, a boat arrived from Notson Ear Island carrying a doctor and a nurse. Only when the doctor set about his task did Perona remember that Zoro’s swords were still out in the courtyard, and so were her cabbages. She took an umbrella and went out in the rain to retrieve the swords and cabbages. Her hand trembled as she picked up Sandai Kitetsu with its bloodstained blade. As soon as she got back to the castle, she dropped it – and everything else – on the floor and just stood there. One cabbage rolled out of the basket and got stuck under a table, but she didn’t notice it until the next day. The noise of swords and cabbages falling to the floor brought Mihawk out. He took one look at her, propped the swords up against the wall, and firmly steered her into the dining hall where he sat her down in one of the armchairs, poured her some wine and handed her a piece of bread.

“Eat,” he said. “I need to be with the doctor right now. After you eat that, go make yourself a proper dinner, Ghost Girl. And eat it. That’s an order.”

“But –”

“I don’t need two people in shock on my hands. Roronoa alone is enough.” Mihawk placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her slightly. “Pull yourself together. You can.”

Perona stared as he left, munching the bread mechanically. Then, just as mechanically, she went to the kitchen and made herself something to eat. What she made she didn’t know. She ate, and headed back to her room. She passed Zoro’s room on the way. The light under the door and low voices and sounds of movement told her that the doctor was still at work. How long had it been? The clock on her mantelpiece showed that it was only just a quarter after nine. It felt like it had been hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought it would be amusing if the reason Zoro lost his eye was a fairly silly one instead of the automatic "he lost his eye dueling Mihawk" idea...


	17. Chapter 17

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, #997** :

_I am beginning to tire of this situation. The manner in which they talk, argue, don’t talk, and then look unhappy until they resume arguing is irksome. It is obvious that those two are smitten with each other but either refuse to acknowledge the fact or are blind to it. I tend to think Roronoa is the latter, though am not entirely certain on which end of the spectrum Perona sits. I await the day when they come to their senses and relieve me of this tedium._

… … …

There was something pressing down on his face. Zoro tried to rub his eyes, but found a patch of what felt like bandages over the left side of his face. He woke up fully then. He sat up in bed. It was morning for sure; he could see the sunlight peeking into his room from the gap between the window curtains. _What the hell happened?_

He had been training in the courtyard. Perona and Mihawk had been talking. Then he had tried to toss his sword up and –

Zoro clapped a hand to the bandaged side of his face. More memories came to him in bits and pieces. There had been pain. (Almost as if on cue, his head actually began to ache.) Mihawk and Perona, both talking too much; he just wanted them all to leave him alone. Someone he didn’t recognise – two someones, actually. A doctor? Yes, a doctor. The doctor and Mihawk talking. Then, nothing. He must have fallen asleep after that.

He got out of bed and went over to the mirror. If they’d had to bring in a proper doctor then it must have been a bad injury. The mirror showed him bandages wrapping around his head, with extra padding over the part where his eye was.

Zoro grimaced. The headache was getting a little stronger. He sat down in a chair and tried to massage the un-bandaged side of his head. The bandaged side was beginning to feel itchy.

“What are you doing?”

Perona stood in the doorway with a tray of food and drink in one hand, the first aid kit in the other hand, and several hollows in attendance. 

“Don’t mess with that!” she said, putting the tray and the kit down. “Can’t have you ruining that right after the doctor’s left.”

“I’m not,” he grumbled. “I’m trying to _not_ touch it.”

She nudged his hand away from his head. “Let’s have a look.”

He dropped his hand and let her scrutinise the wrappings. She bent towards him slightly, gently touching the bandages before turning his head to one side so she could see the other parts. Her fingers were refreshingly cool. It felt nice. Kind of helped with the headache too.

“Seems all right,” she said. “Don’t need to change the bandages yet. The doctor told Mihawk we’d need to change them every few hours or so. At least for the first day. I think these can sit for a little while longer. How do you feel?”

“Better.” He sat up straighter. The headache wasn’t too bad after all.

“You are so lucky it’s not worse. What were you thinking – pulling a stupid stunt like that? Your swords are steel but _you_ are not!”

Steel. The word triggered a memory. His swords! Where were they?

His gaze darted around the room. His swords were nowhere to be seen. Then he remembered: he’d left them out in the courtyard. Had they been out there all night? Would they rust – would the hilts spoil after being exposed to the elements?

“I assume you’re looking for your precious swords,” said Perona. “They’re downstairs.”

“They are?”

“I’ll get them. Meanwhile – eat.”

Zoro had barely taken three mouthfuls of food when she came back, holding his swords.

“Here.” She held them out to him. “I’ve cleaned them.”

Zoro stared at her, then at his swords. “You… Cleaned them?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I felt like being nice.” She brushed some hair away from her face. “And _that_ one had blood on it. Figured it wasn’t a good idea to leave it that way.”

He drew Kitetsu from its sheath. It was clean and shiny. Not a trace of blood on it. Shusui and Wado Ichimonji were the same. Several conflicting sensations arose. She had cleaned his swords… Why? And how? She didn’t know how to handle swords – these were dangerous things. She could have hurt herself. Or ruined them! How dare she! It was a miracle that she hadn’t chipped the blades or the sheaths or something.

It did not occur to Zoro that those were quite irrational thoughts. He said sharply, “You should have asked me first!”

Perona frowned. “Asked… You first?”

“Yes! They’re my swords! And they’re really dangerous. You shouldn’t have touched them!”

She said indignantly, “What? I was _helping_!”

“Well, I didn’t ask you to.” Zoro started to put his swords away. He didn’t feel like looking at her right then. 

“Excuse me? You were – you were unconscious!!”

“So?”

“ _So??_ ”

“So you don’t need to keep fussing like that.”

Perona began to speak, then stopped. A weary look suddenly came over her. The words came out quiet and almost sad: “Why do you keep saying things like that? I’m trying to help and you just – you can be such a jerk.”

The words and the tone caught him by surprise. That was not a reaction he’d anticipated. Anger and annoyance were what he was used to, not this sadness.

She left without saying anything else, and Zoro began to feel uncomfortable.

… … …

Perona untied the ribbons in her hair and flung them at the wall with all her might. But ribbons were not satisfactory throwing items – they merely fluttered to the floor. 

Zoro was just so _rude_! And so ungrateful!

She looked up at the orbiting hollows and said, “Why do I like him? _Why_??”

They shrugged in response. 

The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became. She recalled their earlier disagreement about her “fussing over Mihawk”. She’d forgotten it in the horror of Zoro collapsing with blood pouring from his head. But it came back to her now, and combined with his most recent remarks…

“Maybe I _should_ just transfer my feelings to Mihawk. Wouldn’t that serve him right?”

She received several ghostly giggles in answer.

 _No_ , she thought. That probably wouldn’t serve any purpose. It would only “serve him right” if he cared about her in the first place. If he didn’t, then her favouring Mihawk over him would create no jealousy whatsoever.

_Too bad that I can’t just turn my feelings on and off like I can my hollows._

Perona waved a hand and the hollows vanished.

… … …

A haughty-looking spectral Perona sailed into the dining hall through the wall, said, “He’s awake,” and then sailed out.

Mihawk gazed at the spot from which her ghost form had come. He recognised that particular chill in her manner.

Roronoa Zoro needed a good knock on the head. Ghost Girl had seemed much better that morning – she’d had dark circles around her eyes, but she was not looking stricken and appeared to be her brisk self again. But clearly Zoro had done something to offend her again.

He took his time finishing his drink and reading the newspaper before he got up and went to see his student. He found Zoro sitting cross-legged on the floor with two swords in his lap and the third in front of him. His right hand gripped Shusui’s hilt and his left hand rested on Sandai Kitetsu’s sheath.

“Is this some new form of meditation?” Mihawk asked. “Or are you going to sacrifice those two to Wado Ichimonji?”

Zoro glanced at him. “Thinking,” he said shortly.

“Oh, good,” said Mihawk, taking a seat on the nearest chair. “At long last you are thinking.”

The glance became a glare.

Mihawk held his gaze for a full three seconds. Then he reached down and swept all the swords up into his own lap, disregarding Zoro’s exclamation of annoyance.

“You seemed to have forgotten that these” – there was a dull _thunk_ as his fingers tapped each sword in turn – “are not toys.”

“I know they’re not!”

“Really? Because I can think of no other reason that you chose to play games with them yesterday. Tossing something dangerous like a sword up and down is no way to impress a lady, Roronoa.”

“I wasn’t trying to impress anyone!”

Zoro tried to retrieve his swords but Mihawk spun Shusui around, still in its scabbard, and jabbed the end of it at Zoro’s chest, pushing him back.

“Then you are an even bigger fool than I thought.”

He received an incredulous, angry look from Zoro.

“If you weren’t trying to impress anyone, what, then,” said Mihawk, “was the point of treating your _cursed sword_ like a wooden baton?”

He saw the incredulity fade from Zoro’s face, and something like a sulk took its place. Good. That meant the words were sinking in.

Mihawk replaced Shusui in his lap and allowed several moments of silence to pass. Zoro kept his gaze on the floor.

“The doctor says you may not be able to see out of that eye again.”

Zoro looked up sharply. “It’s that bad?”

Mihawk nodded. “The consequences of toying with accursed weapons are heavy. You may have gotten away with it once – I believe you said you acquired it through some stunt of that sort, did you not? But you cannot expect to be so fortunate in every instance. It is my opinion that your sword punished you for taking it lightly. Let your guard down, and a cursed sword can betray you.”

Zoro’s face was grim.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Roronoa?”

Two seconds went by. Three. Five. Ten.

Then Zoro tilted his head up and said, “Doesn’t matter. I’ll still become the greatest swordsman.”

Mihawk smiled slowly. “Very good.” He handed Shusui back to Zoro, who then looked expectantly at him, waiting for the other two. When he didn’t show any sign of returning Kitetsu or Wado Ichimonji, Zoro frowned.

“I’m not done with you yet,” said Mihawk.

“What now?!” Zoro growled, exasperated.

“Perona.”

… … …

At the mention of Perona’s name, a chill ran through Zoro. Was he going to tell him off for making her angry again? (Because he had most certainly angered her earlier.) Or would he warn him to stay away from her? Mihawk needn’t worry about _that_. He could stay away quite easily…

An unpleasant sinking feeling crept over him. Yes, he could stay away from her. But he found that he didn’t want to do that. The prospect of having to avoid her because she was Mihawk’s girl did not sit well with him. At all.

He set his jaw and faced Mihawk with as blank an expression as he could manage, waiting for him to continue.

“I do not know what you said or did this time. But upsetting her is not the way to get her attention.”

_Huh?_

“You are not a child anymore (even if you behave like one at times). Annoying a girl in whom you are interested is not the way to gain her attention – or her affection.”

His jaw dropped slightly.  

“Granted, there appears to be _some_ affection in spite of how annoying you are.”

Zoro was completely bewildered but at the same time, a part of him was suddenly… Happy? 

“But I think the main problem here is you.” Mihawk rested his chin in one hand. “So I ask you now, Roronoa: do you know how you feel about her?”

“What? What’re you talking about? She’s…” _She’s annoying. Talks too much sometimes. And she’s fussy. Her clothes are fussy too. And she has weird hollows. But I guess she’s pretty. And she can be… Kind._

He recalled the reading lessons. Her efforts to make him get better clothing. The times she let him ramble on about swords and Kuina and his dreams. It can’t have been that interesting to her, but she let him go on about it anyway. She seemed to understand. Particularly after that late night conversation…

She had also never once blamed him for the Incident on Notson Ear, never once joked about his getting so lost that he failed to come to her rescue. Why didn’t she? He still felt awful about that whenever it came to mind – and he remembered it every time he got lost around the castle. It really really sucked that he hadn’t managed to go to her aid at such a time…

It dawned on him then with a swiftness that was startling. It was rather like being slashed and watching one’s insides fall out. His “insides” – those things called feelings – spilled out for him to see and it was a discomfiting revelation.

_Oh no._

Zoro realised Mihawk was still watching him.

“Figured it out at last, Roronoa?”

Was he that easy to read?? Mihawk just _had_ to be there right at that moment. He needed to think – without Mihawk there. This was… Not a good thing. He couldn’t afford to have any distractions. His goal and Luffy’s goal were his main purpose in life. Love and romance and all that stuff were Major Distractions. He couldn’t let emotions get in the way.

“I can’t,” he blurted out at last.

“You can’t..? Can’t what?”

“I can’t have this. It’s – I can’t be distracted. I follow the way of the sword! There is no time for sappy stuff like… Like this.”

Mihawk drummed his fingers on Wado Ichimonji. “By ‘this’ do you mean having emotions – specifically romantic ones? Where did you get that absurd idea?”

“Isn’t that how it is?”

“I want to say that you’ve been reading slushy novels that have given you misplaced ideas of what a swordsman should be like, but then you hardly read any books apart from the ones Perona makes you read. Oh, you didn’t think I’d noticed?”

Zoro was torn between wanting to stab himself and wanting to stab Mihawk.

“Let us get one thing clear, Roronoa: the way of the sword does _not_ mean the exclusion of all other things in life. If that were the case then you should give up alcohol permanently.”

“Alcohol isn’t a distraction!”

Mihawk blinked twice. Slowly. Zoro could almost feel himself shrink to the size of a pigeon. Then Mihawk continued as though he hadn’t said anything, “So if you are so easily ‘distracted’ by mere emotions, then you do not deserve the title of the Greatest Swordsman, and you will never get there.”

“But _you_ aren’t bogged down by emotions.”

“If you think I am little more than an animated marble statue that has never experienced any emotion outside of battle, you are gravely mistaken.”

Several hours later, Zoro found himself brooding over Mihawk’s final words before he returned the remaining swords to him.

“If you have any feelings resembling the sort I suspect you have for her, you would do well not to sacrifice the potential in those feelings for your goal of becoming the greatest swordsman. I should think you are quite capable of handling both things. And if you cannot… Then you may never become the Greatest Swordsman in the world. As the current Greatest Swordsman in the world, allow me to tell you that there are things more valuable in this world than that title.”

He wasn’t sure which part of it was more unnerving – that there might be something more to his life than just the way of the sword, or that he had feelings for Perona. Or that Mihawk clearly knew he had feelings for Perona.

Zoro tried to resist scratching the bandage off his face. The itch was back.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, #1010** :

_It is becoming evident that our little talk a few days ago has disrupted Roronoa’s peace of mind. It’s making him look more and more like an agitated animal, even during training. He had better sort himself out soon._

… … …

Three days later, Zoro was about ready to claw at the walls in frustration. It had taken him the better part of the day and the entire night after Mihawk’s talk to come to terms with his Feelings. But once he did… Well, Roronoa Zoro was a man of action rather than words, and once he decided that action was needed, he acted.

Or at least, he tried to.

He’d planned to get her alone (because _no way_ was he letting Mihawk in on such a personal matter), apologise, and then… See what happened. He wasn’t entirely sure how to apologise or what to do after that or how he should even go about explaining the Feelings part, but he figured he’d just wing it.

The problem was that Perona did not seem in the least inclined to give him a good opportunity to enact his plan. Initially, he intended to broach the topic when she was attending to his wound the morning after Mihawk’s talk. It did not work.

Zoro had woken early and was sitting in a chair facing the window when Perona had knocked and come into the room. His first (odd) impulse was to leap up from his seat but she held up a hand and said, “Just stay where you are. That’ll be fine.”

She had put the first aid kit down and cast a scrutinising look at his bandages before slowly removing them. He had flinched as parts of it tugged at his hair and skin in the removal. Previously, Perona would have made some wry remark when he flinched but this time, she said nothing. In fact, she had said nothing at all the entire time apart from necessary things such as asking him to turn his head to one side or the other to facilitate the change of bandages and application of medication.

Her air of a quietly professional nurse had disconcerted him. It wasn’t normal, and he found he was unable to bring up an apology in that atmosphere.

Lunchtime was slightly different. Perona was not the professional nurse then, but rather like a stranger who happened to know Mihawk and who didn’t happen to know him. She would speak to Mihawk but Zoro received merely a cool nod of acknowledgement and that was that.

These scenarios repeated themselves at the next meal, and at the next time Perona had to tend to his wound, and over and over again for the next few days.

At other times of day, if he saw her at all, she drifted around in her ghostly form which allowed her to fly away or vanish instantly upon seeing him. She only appeared in her real body during mealtimes, when she was attending to his injury, or when she had to prepare meals.

Zoro had attempted to speak to her in the kitchen at a time when she would be preparing dinner, but lack of sight in one eye did nothing to help his sense of direction and he hadn’t managed to find the kitchen until she was done cooking.

He’d opened the door and found her picking up two plates of food. She had edged past him with a brief, “Excuse me,” and walked away. 

Zoro had followed her and tried to get round to her left so that he could look at her more easily with his good eye. “Hey, we need to talk.”

Perona kept close enough to the banisters of the stairs that he was forced to remain on her right. She didn’t look at him. “Talk about what?” she said. “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.” She ended her sentence with a tremor in her voice that stopped him dead in his tracks and left him staring after her as she went up the stairs and into the dining hall.

It was at this point that Zoro realised that he had never made a serious effort to get a girl’s attention before this. Pursued bounties? Sure. Pursued a romantic interest? Never.

Before Luffy found him, he had had a handful of flings – temporary things, lasting only a few days at most. If he showed interest in someone and was ignored or rebuffed, he let it slide off him and hardly thought twice about it, preferring to concentrate on whatever job he had at hand or to wait until he found someone more receptive. If a girl didn’t want to give him a chance, well, then he wasn’t going to be troubled about it. There were more important things in life.

He contemplated just ditching the whole idea of apologising and admitting to having Feelings. After all, forgetting Perona would be easier when he was off this dratted island. There was no way to tell if this thing between them (if there was a thing at all) could last once he returned to his crew.

But… Even though he didn’t know if it was something that would last, he wanted the chance to find out if it could. Shrugging the issue off wasn’t an option. He _needed_ to apologise, and to see what could come of this. Or at the very least, make things right and normal again. This cool indifference with an undercurrent of sadness… He didn’t like it.

Several more days of this strange and unpleasant distance followed and they left Zoro angry and exhausted. When Perona departed after dinner a week after his accident with Kitetsu, he flung his chopsticks down on the table and pushed away his half-eaten bowl of noodles.

“I don’t see _how_ I’m supposed to do anything when she acts like I don’t exist!”

Mihawk only said, “Don’t break my cutlery.”

“Who cares about the stupid chopsticks? Aren’t you supposed to be giving me advice?”

“I gave you advice on your romantic life once. That was it. I am not your agony aunt.”

“What? Aunt? Don’t you mean ‘uncle’?”

“You really need a better vocabulary. I suggest that you read more, Roronoa.”

Zoro took a spoon and began scraping at the table top. Mention of his reading skills reminded him unpleasantly of how much more Perona and Mihawk read compared to him, and jealousy flared.

“Taking it out on me or my cutlery or my furniture will do you no good.” Mihawk pushed his chair back and rose from the table to leave. “This is an issue you have to solve by yourself. And I suggest you solve it soon – you were distinctly distracted during sparring today. Apply yourself to the problem a little, Roronoa.”

Zoro was left to his thoughts and the ticking of the clock on the wall beside the bookshelves.

… … …

Perona regarded the semi-complete Mini-Kumashii with satisfaction. Some months ago, she had found some old cloth in a chest in the castle attic and it had occurred to her that since she couldn’t have Kumashii back, she could just make herself a miniature version of him. She’d acquired some sewing materials and extra cloth on a recent trip to Notson Ear Island but had not really done much since then as she’d been a little busier with the reading lessons. Now that she wasn’t on speaking terms with Zoro, the reading lessons automatically ceased and she had more time on her hands. So she’d begun work on Mini-Kumashii and was progressing nicely with the stuffed bear.

It also proved useful in helping her not think of Zoro. She was not an expert needlewoman and needed to concentrate quite hard when she was working on Mini-Kumashii. She’d had to unpick many failed seams and had pricked herself lots of times but she wasn’t complaining. It was an excellent distraction from ungrateful and unfeeling swordsmen who were stupid enough to stab themselves in the eye with their cursed blades.

On several occasions, it had seemed like Zoro was trying to get her to speak to him. But she’d rebuffed him. One part of her said she should’ve listened to him, but the other part said, “No, enough is enough. He’ll just keep hurting you because he doesn’t feel the same way. He’ll leave the island in a year and you’ll get over him soon enough.” So she had slammed the lid shut on her emotions and tried to busy herself with other things – such as Mini-Kumashii.

A clock somewhere in the castle chimed twelve times. She put Mini-Kumashii to the side and prepared for bed. Just as she was about to turn off her bedside lamp, she heard a very faint rustling sound. She looked up.

A small white square of paper lay on the floor, peeking out from under the door.

She stared at it for a few seconds, then chose to ignore it. She switched the light off and snuggled under the covers. But curiosity was stronger than sleep. So she rose, turned the light back on, and went to pick the paper up. Written in untidy and uncertain kanji were the words:

_You’re right. I was a jerk and I shouldn’t have said those things. I’m really sory._

There was a distinct feeling of a tight, hard knot deep within her relaxing and loosening.  

_No! I mustn’t go soft!_ She shook her head, as if to clear it. She sat on the floor and read the note again. _Am I supposed to believe this is sincere? I’m not stupid. But… But… He actually went to the trouble of_ writing _it down._

If there was one thing Zoro had found even more difficult that learning to read kanji, it was learning to write it. He had always been the most resistant to the writing part of it, and she’d pretty much given up trying to make him get better at remembering how to write the kanji characters.

He could write in the standard alphabet, though. And he could have written the note in standard alphabet. But he hadn’t. He’d chosen to write in kanji.

The knot inside her came undone.

… … …

_Women like flowers, right?_

Zoro peered at the bushes on either side of the door to the courtyard, wondering if there were any flowers on those. He knew he should’ve looked for flowers before pushing the note under her door but it hadn’t crossed his mind until he was halfway to his own room.

The moon was waning, so though there was some light, it wasn’t as bright as when there was a full moon. (It was a miracle that he hadn’t taken more than ten minutes to find the door to the courtyard, especially with only one eye to see with in the dark.)

He wandered a little way down the row of bushes on the left of the door, trying to see if there was anything resembling a flower anywhere, before he tried the bushes on the right. Finding no flowers there, he made his way round the courtyard and squinted at every bush and tree he came across. He even used Shusui to prod at branches to see if any flowers were hidden behind leaves.

There weren’t many plants in the courtyard and he eventually ran out of options. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked at a stone.

Flowers probably wouldn’t help if she didn’t care about his apology in the first place. He wondered if the note would work. The idea had come to him when he was staring at the bookshelves in the dining hall. The books reminded him of their lessons, and he had rummaged through drawers until he’d found some paper and a pencil. If she wouldn’t speak to him, maybe she would read a note. But _would_ she even read it? Or would she just throw it away without reading it? If she chose to disregard it then he was truly out of options and he’d have to give up. Or do the unthinkable and ask Mihawk to intervene. He _really_ hoped he wouldn’t have to go that far.

Zoro kicked another pebble and sat down on the doorstep, placing his swords beside him. It unnerved him that he could be so rattled by this. Powerful enemies, other swordsmen, Dracule Mihawk – none of those really fazed him. But this one woman, and these Feelings – they threw him off-balance.

Resolution. He needed resolution one way or another.

“I can’t believe you misspelled ‘sorry.’”

He jumped to his feet and turned to see Perona standing behind him. 

She held up the note and pointed to the word on the paper. “S-O-R-Y? There should be two ‘R’s in there.”

“Yeah. Sorry,” he said, unable to keep one corner of his mouth from turning up a little. She’d read it. And she was speaking to him again – like she used to – and that felt great.

“You need to work on your handwriting too.” She shook her head at the writing on the paper. “Barely looks like an adult wrote it…”

Zoro barely heard her. All he could think was how badly he wanted to kiss her right at that moment out of a combination of sheer relief and desire.

“…but considering that you hardly write at all, this is pretty decent.” Perona looked straight at him then, and smiled a little crooked smile.

The smile decided him. He pulled the paper out of her hand, tossed it onto the ground as he closed the distance between them and kissed her.

The thrill lasted all of two seconds because Perona jerked out of his grasp and shoved him away.

“What was that?” she demanded.

“Huh??” Something caught in his throat. Had he misread the situation?

“You don’t – you – why’d you waste my first kiss like that?? I don’t want to be kissed by someone who doesn’t mean it!”

Zoro was bewildered. “What…?”

Her eyes darted from side to side and her hands flailed about as if she was looking for words but couldn’t find them. “Don’t just – don’t kiss me if you don’t actually want to!”

“What are you talking about? I _don’t_ kiss people if I don’t want to! What do you take me for?”

“ _Why_? Why would you want to kiss me? You don’t like me that way. I’m not Kuina or whatshername…”

“Are you nuts? What does Kuina or anyone else have to do with this? I _wanted_ to kiss you! I wouldn’t kiss you if I didn’t like you! And I sure as hell wouldn’t have written that” – he pointed at the paper on the floor – “if I didn’t like you!”

… … …

Perona stared at him, eyes wide with surprise.

Zoro stood stock still, and then abruptly bent to pick up his swords. “Never mind. Forget it.”

“How do you expect me to forget it?” The words were out of her mouth before she quite knew it.

He looked up at her. She swallowed, feeling flustered.

“It’s – that’s not the kind of thing one just ‘forgets’!” she said, tugging at a lock of her hair. “This feels unreal…”

Zoro got up slowly as she went on talking, hooking the swords to his belt as he did.

“I’m not even sure I heard you correctly. It’s something I’ve _imagined_ , but –”

“You imagined it?”

“Not exactly those words, of course!” She narrowed her eyes in irritation. _If he smirks I’m going to walk away_.

His mouth twitched ever so slightly but otherwise, Zoro’s face was impassive.

Several seconds ticked by. Perona pulled at the sleeve of her dressing gown. She was beginning to feel weirdly self-conscious, anticipative, and a tiny bit fearful. She tried to speak again just to dispel the awkward feelings, and said, “Anyway, uhm, if you meant all that…”

“I did.”

Perona froze. Then she closed her mouth and studied her feet, extremely conscious of the strange, happy, floaty feeling coursing through her, and of the hammering of her heart. Her mind was a blank. What did one say in such situations?

Zoro was watching her with the uncertain air of an animal trying to figure out whether it was facing friend or foe. The realisation that maybe he too was unsettled by the situation was faintly comforting. At the same time, she knew she owed him a response. She cast about for words.

“So… You… Well, I mean – uh…” _Just_ say _something!_ “In that case, I guess I… I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me.” She added hurriedly, “If you still want to, that is.”

“ _Hell,_ _yes_.”

Zoro was right in front of her, lifting her chin in both hands (more gently than she’d expected of him), and kissing her. It was a light, brief kiss; then it was not. He pulled her closer, kissed her more deeply, and her world became a blur. There was only the press of lips against hers, the sensation of fingers along the side of her face, the warmth of mingling breaths, and above it all, the soaring feeling of reciprocation.

She was pretty sure that she could have produced positive hollows instead of negative ones in that moment.

… … …

Diary of Dracule Mihawk, #1011:

> _They actually smiled at each other today and spoke to each other in an almost normal fashion. Roronoa showed a return to his normal self in training. Good._

Diary of Dracule Mihawk, #1012:

> _Roronoa smirked at Perona today and she didn’t retaliate. She only smiled. Wonder of wonders. I believe that those two have_ finally _come to an understanding. That would also explain his extraordinary focus in training lately._
> 
> _So long as they behave with discretion and don’t let me walk in on them at inappropriate moments, this will do fine._


	19. Epilogue

**Diary of Dracule Mihawk, #1195** :

Akagami _turned up on Notson Ear. The man can be tiresome._

_Returned to the castle today to find that Ghost Girl has returned from escorting Roronoa to Sabaody. She appears normal but there were an unusually high number of her pet ghosts floating around the castle grounds. Perhaps that is her way of moping._

… … …

Mihawk halted on the threshold of The Drunken Squirrel and stared at the man lounging in a chair with his legs up on the table.

“There you are!” exclaimed Shanks. “I’ve been waiting for you!”

“Why are you here?”

“Can’t I come see an old friend?”

“Since when are we ‘old friends’?”

Shanks shook his head and adopted an agonised expression. “Oh, Mihawk. You break my heart!”

Behind Shanks, Ben Beckmann chuckled. Mihawk ignored the laugh and took a seat at another table.

Shanks immediately dragged his chair over to join him. “Drinks on me, Hawkeye. What’ll you have?”

When they had ordered, Shanks said, “So, how is your son? And your daughter-in-law? Or was it the other way around – your daughter and son-in-law? I can’t remember.”

Mihawk threw him a freezing look. “I have no children. I had tenants.”

“Yeah, tenants that stayed for free.”

 “All right. I had one student and one housekeeper.”

Shanks looked amused. “That’s a little closer to the truth than ‘tenants’, I think. How are they doing?”

“They’ve gone to Sabaody.”

“Ah.” Shanks nodded sagely. “About time for young Roronoa to rejoin his crew, isn’t it?”

Mihawk repeated his earlier question: “Why are you here, _Akagami_?”

“Well…”

… … …

Perona stood at the bow of the boat and watched the ocean waves glitter in the morning sun. They were now only a day’s journey from Sabaody, and soon Zoro would be reunited with his crewmates – and separated from her. It made her feel a little melancholy. A hollow hovered at her shoulder, making soft and sorrowful “ _horo_ ” sounds.

Was it wise to have become attached to Roronoa Zoro? A man who had sworn to become the greatest swordsman, and to make his captain the Pirate King? Both things were paths that could end in swift and sudden death. Moreover, it would separate them for what was likely to be years. Who could tell what would happen in that time? Perhaps he would tire of her, or be distracted by other women. After all, there were plenty of Tashigis and Nico Robins out there.

She looked down at the book in her hand. The _Ghouls of the Grand Line_ was looking rather more worn than it had when she’d first been thrown onto Kuraigana. It had been well-used. She flipped through the pages. Quite a few bore her pencil scribbles – notes on the reading of the kanji or things that she’d doodled for fun (such as tiny ghosts or little arrows on the page with the picture of Mihawk’s castle, indicating the location of various rooms).

A seagull squawked overhead.

She continued gazing at the water. It was rather therapeutic.

A few minutes later, she heard Zoro come out of the cabin and approach her. He stood at the railing beside her and stared out at the sea.

“What’re you looking at?” he asked. “Shouldn’t we be setting off soon?”

“Yeah, we should,” she said, ignoring his first question. They sailed by day and dropped anchor at night. There were only two of them and even if they slept in shifts, it was a bit too tricky to have just one person manning the boat at night.

There was no sound for a while except for the sound of waves and the muted hoots from the white apparition by her.

Zoro said, “You’re too quiet.”

“Just thinking.”

A little breeze blew past, tossing some of her hair across her face and tossing her hollow into little somersaults off the bow. She brushed her hair back as her hollow floated back to her side, still _horo_ -ing sadly.

Zoro turned and leaned his back against the railing. “You think too much sometimes.”

“One of us has to,” she retorted. “You don’t think at all so if I think too much it balances out.”

She offered _The Ghouls of the Grand Line_ to him.

“What? Am I supposed to read it?”

“Do whatever you want with it. I’m giving it to you.” As if to emphasise her point, the hollow gestured with both its hands towards Zoro.

“Why?”

She shrugged. “It’s a present. A reminder, maybe.” _A reminder that I exist_.

He frowned and looked at her intently, as if he sensed the reasons behind it. She said nothing, but still held the book out. Zoro took the book and tucked it into the folds of his red sash. “Fine. But you know I don’t need it.”

“So you say,” she responded in a half-teasing tone. She dismissed the hollow with a thought.  

“That’s right.”

Perona leaned against him now while Zoro braced himself against the railing with one arm. He draped his other arm over her shoulders. She ran a hand over his chest, marvelling (not for the first time) at how _solid_ he was.

“Besides,” said Zoro with a smirk, “I’m not about to forget that I gave you your first kiss. It’s not often that I get to do that.”

She scowled and poked him with a finger before pushing away from him. “Go ahead, be smug and spoil the mood. I swear, sometimes it’s like you _want_ to be negative-d. Don’t forget that you got _lost_ when trying to save me.”

… … …

Zoro made a face at the recollection of that incident. He realised she was walking away and he caught her arm before she moved out of reach. "You can be the last one I kiss. How's that?"

Perona regarded him with surprise for a moment, and then narrowed her eyes. “I can't tell if that's a joke or your version of suggesting a _commitment_.”

“It's not a joke.” He was surprised at how certain he felt.

She remained standing at the same spot, looking hard at him.

_Was_ it a commitment?

He hadn't planned to say anything like that, and he certainly hadn't given it much thought before, but it had just… Come out… But now that he'd said it out loud, it didn't seem so bad. It was even somewhat appealing.

Perona joined him at the railing again, but faced the sea. They stayed that way for some time and there was a long silence, filled only by the sound of waves gently sloshing against the boat. Zoro glanced at Perona. She was wearing a black dress of some sort that left her shoulders bare, and she hadn't done her hair up yet that morning – was she going to ask him to braid it for her later? He still found it hard to believe that he'd learned to do that (though not without significant persuasion).

He snapped out of his reverie when she said, “We've never talked about that.”

“Talking isn't my thing.”

“True enough.”

A splash off the port side of the boat drew their attention. A gull had swooped into the water and grabbed a fish. Another gull followed suit, also emerging with a fish in its beak. When the birds had flown away, he turned to Perona and found her looking at him.

“What if you change your mind?” she said.

“I don't plan to.”

Perona smiled then, a wry smile. “Guess I can trust _that_. You _are_ pretty stubborn.”

The air seemed to shift; it was lighter now. With a smile of his own, he said, “You wouldn't like me as much if I wasn't.”

“How do you know I wouldn't? Maybe I'd prefer a pliant guy”

He scoffed at the idea. “You wouldn't.”

“Again: how do you know?”

“I just know.”

“That's not a good answer.”

“Talking isn't my thing.”

She gave a small laugh. “Talking and directions. Not your strong points.”

He edged closer to her. “Yeah. I'm better at other things.”

“Hmm, that you are.” Perona let him slide an arm around her waist. Her fingers did a little dance up the back of his neck. “And one of your strong points is, literally, that brute strength of yours.” The delicate dance of her fingers stopped and she poked him in the neck instead. “Time to raise anchor and go. The anchor is waiting for you.”

“Aren't you supposed to be all nice to me now that we're going to be apart soon?” grumbled Zoro, a little disappointed that she was moving away from him.

She gave him a sugary sweet look. “I believe in pragmatism.”

He snorted. “Says the person who still insists on having a stuffed toy.”

“We all have our weaknesses. Besides, Mini-Kumashii is a lot cuter than you.”

“You realise you're insulting the Greatest Swordsman in the World...”

Perona gave an astonished gasp. “But I'm not talking to or about Mihawk!”

He made an exasperated noise and she laughed. “You are so easy to bait. Don't worry; you _will_ be the Greatest Swordsman in the World.”

“I never said I wasn't,” began Zoro.

“And I will see you again.”

The words sounded like a statement, but Zoro heard the uncertainty in her voice, and saw in the defiant tilt of her chin and her averted eyes an attempt to hide anxiety.

“Hey.”

She turned and he held her gaze for a long moment before saying, “I will be the Greatest Swordsman, and you _will_ see me again.”

A few more moments passed before Perona smiled again. But this time it was a real smile, not wry or mocking. She drew closer to Zoro, lifted her face to his and kissed him. Then she pulled back a little. “I'm holding you to that, Roronoa Zoro.”

“You should,” he murmured, leaning towards her and tightening his grip around her waist. “Kiss me again and then I'll go pull up the anchor.”

So Perona kissed him once more (a longer, much more satisfactory one this time), Zoro dutifully went to raise the anchor, and they set off on the last leg of the journey towards Sabaody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this, I'm finally done cross-posting this fic from FFN to AO3! Thank you for reading, and I hope you've enjoyed it :)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted to FFN in January 2017, and completed in January 2018. I'm slowly reposting it here on AO3 for archiving/backup purposes, and doing it chapter by chapter just so I can double-check it for spelling errors and minor revisions, and will update my FFN version accordingly. But there won't be massive changes so if you would like to read the whole thing, you can just hop over to FFN and search for it - same title, same author :)


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